


Tempus Fugit Praeterhãc

by Quill_lumos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, Explicit Language, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-06
Updated: 2008-04-18
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 91,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_lumos/pseuds/Quill_lumos
Summary: Based on the amusing idea on the US cover of Deathly Hallows. Harry's Horcrux hunt leads him to Rome. However, he hadn't expected the sudden trip back through time thanks to a booby-trapped Diadem, Neither had Severus Snape, who gets dragged into the backlash of the spell. Now they're both stuck in the past, what are they going to do?   Together they struggle to earn a living and have to learn to survive, whilst continuing to search for a way home.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything Harry Potter, related nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. It all belongs to JK Rowling. Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Brothers and any other entity involved.

**A/N:** *waves sheepishly and comes bearing fic*. This story was meant to be a twenty-thousand word one shot, but in the end I wasn't so much attacked by a plot bunny, as stomped to death by rampant killer rabbits from hell! It was written for Faynia's prompt, at Slashfest on Live Jounal she wanted to see Harry and Snape in Ancient Rome. There is mention of rape of a minor character, mention of underage sex. 

So this is where I have been for the past three and a half months, writing and researching this story. It is 78,000 words long and it is complete. I'll be posting a chapter a day for the next eight days. I am now back working on my two WIPs Second Chance at Life and Concubine. New chapters should be up within the next week or so.

Thanks to the wonderful Cyndie, my darling Claudia and the amazing Emz, for all the betaing, hand holding and much needed support. Huge thanks also to the wonderful maculategiraffe, again on LJ who helped me with the Latin translations and gave me much needed advice on Roman history and customs. For anyone who likes reading slavefic. Mac has written an absolutely phenomenal, original series called The Slave Breakers, which I highly recommend and which can be found [here](http://maculategiraffe.livejournal.com/10338.html)

 

All mistakes and errors are my own.

Latin speech is in _italics_

 

 

Chapter One

 

The boy seemed to be hot and irritated. If it had been anyone other than Potter so obviously suffering in the unexpected heat then Severus might well have had some sympathy. Severus suspected that he probably didn’t like Rome very much either, judging from the sour look on his face. Potter had appeared far more content when he and Granger were traipsing all over Britain and living in that awful, battered tent than he was here, surrounded by the glory that was Rome. After all, it wasn’t as if the idiotic child could understand the culture or the history. The Granger girl probably appreciated it more, but she was stuck with the biggest pair of idiots that Severus had ever had the misfortune of having to follow for several precious days of his life. It seemed Granger had finally managed to track down Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem, which was not at Hogwarts as everyone had suspected, but here in Italy, of all places. They were currently en-route to retrieving it. 

“Where are we going again, Hermione?” Potter whined. He was such a selfish, spoiled brat, Severus thought smugly.

“Are we there yet?” Weasley’s voice was even whinier than Potter’s. With his red hair and pale skin, Weasley didn’t seem to be coping with the heat at all; although he didn’t look very pale at the moment – instead, he looked like he’d been boiled. Weasley sounded pathetic, childish and petulant, just like Potter. All at once Severus almost felt a pang of sympathy for Granger; this strange expedition wasn’t her fault, after all. Severus knew that the girl must have worked hard to locate the Diadem and it certainly wasn’t her fault that the Dark Lord had a thing about dead Roman emperors.

Severus hadn’t realised that Rome could be so hot in March. He had been told that it was indeed several degrees warmer than was usual for this time of year. Not that anyone else seemed to think it was that hot. There were people strolling past them, for example, wearing jackets and cardigans; but compared to the damp rainy days they had experienced recently in Britain, Italy was practically tropical. The sweaty and bedraggled Gryffindor trio stood out plainly against the Italians that surrounded them, it being too early in the year for the city to be swamped with tourists.

“Oh, do stop it, the pair of you!” Granger snapped huffily, effectively ending Severus’ feelings of sympathy towards her. The girl was far too bossy. She didn’t look much more comfortable than the boys did, her hair had become even frizzier in the heat.

Severus still found it hard to believe that they had actually managed to track down the last Horcrux - apart from Nagini that was – not just to Rome, but to a particular statue; in fact, a statue of Julius Caesar. Apparently Caesar had been an ancestor of Rowena Ravenclaw’s. Potter and Weasley were obviously hazy on exactly why this statue was the only one that would do for the Dark Lord. Severus wasn’t completely sure either but, even if he didn’t like admitting it to himself, he trusted the girl; she wasn’t often wrong.

Granger had stopped at last. She was peering up at a sculpture of, in Weasley’s inelegant words, “yet another dead bloke.” 

Granger looked at Weasley with impatience, perhaps finally realising what an idiot the boy was.

“He isn’t just some ‘dead bloke’, Ron,” she said, disdainfully. “This is Julius Caesar. Even you must have heard of him!” 

“Erm…” Weasley mumbled, merely underlining his total imbecility, as far as Severus could see. 

“Of course we have,” Potter interjected, ignoring Weasley’s blank look.

“Well, this is where Aberforth told me that You-Know-Who buried Rowena’s Diadem,” Granger said, whirling around on them triumphantly. 

“But he can’t have done, Hermione.” Weasley was prodding the base as he spoke. “This is solid marble, or granite or something. You couldn’t bury anything here.”

Granger rolled her eyes, the very picture of irritation. Severus was actually quite impressed with her restraint, did Weasley have to continually demonstrate that he had less intelligence than a flobberworm?

“Well, he probably didn’t bury it! But I bet it is encased in here somehow! And if we want to destroy it, we’ll have to get it out.”

“But why would he want to put the Diadem here?” The odious Weasley boy was pouting now.

“I think that he identifies with Caesar,” Granger said seriously. “He sees himself as a great ruler.”

“Great prick, more like!” Weasley muttered, poking at the base with one sandaled foot. “Could he be more of a dickhead?”

Severus had to admit, for once in his life, that the boy might just have a point. He would not have used those words perhaps, but he supported the sentiment completely.

“How do you think we get at it?” Potter asked.

“Try _Alohamora_ ,” Weasley suggested.

“It won’t be as simple as that,” Granger scoffed.

It wasn’t.

They tried poking at the base, pushing it gently and whispering a series of spells. Nothing seemed to work. Severus longed to go over and shove the children out of the way as he was sure that he would have more success. They were totally inept as far as Severus was concerned.

Luckily the sculpture was in one of the less populous parts of Rome, because Potter got down on his hands and knees and started feeling along the base of the statue. He was muttering to himself under his breath about the heat, and Rome and the fact that the pavement was hot on his bare skin.

“Harry,” Granger hissed, “people are looking at us. We’ll have to come back later.”

Potter glared at her, seemingly in irritation; he was still running his fingers along a rope-like carving at the top of the plinth on which the statue stood. As those nimble fingers continued their questing the boy began to speak.

But the words that he spoke were not comprehensible to any of them.

“Harry, you’re hissing! You’re speaking Parseltongue,” Granger exclaimed. 

Nothing like stating the obvious, Severus thought with a sneer.

A small doorway in the plinth slid aside.

For a moment Severus hated Potter even more than he usually did. How could the archetypal Gryffindor have such a wonderfully Slytherin talent? It didn’t seem fair to Severus, especially as the boy didn’t even seem to know that he was speaking it.

But a large, goofy grin split Potter’s face and he reached in to grab the Diadem.

“NO!” The word seemed to be torn from Severus, without him even being conscious of it.

Potter turned from his self appointed task to see who had shouted, a look of total astonishment on his face. Then Severus was running towards him across the piazza, faster than he had ever run before. But he was too late. Potter’s fingers wrapped around the object that his fingers sought. Severus heard a roaring sound in his ears as he reached the boy and grabbed hold of him, then he was blinded by a flash of white light and everything went black.

 

****************

 

The two of them landed with a crash, in a tangle of limbs. Severus was on top of Potter, who lay sprawled beneath him, not moving.

“Oh, fuck!” Severus said, under his breath. He placed two fingers at Potter’s pulse point, and was relieved to find that there was a pulse, even though it was very weak. He had to get the boy to a hospital; he refused to let all his hard work be for nothing. He had been following the three teenagers for a while, whenever he could get away from Hogwarts and his duties as Headmaster. He had managed to remain unseen by the trio for almost a year, helping them when necessary, but not letting them know who had helped him. He had been astounded when he had seen the boy reach in to retrieve Rowena’s Diadem from the base of the statue. Had the stupid child learned nothing from what had happened to Dumbledore? 

He’d grabbed Potter out of harm’s way scant seconds before the magical explosion that had sent them flying into a crumpled heap. Now the boy was injured and Severus had no idea where to take him. He didn’t know whether there was a magical hospital in Rome, or even where a Muggle facility might be, but he had to find out quickly. 

If only the idiotic brat had not been so impulsive, so stupid as to try and touch the Horcrux without any preparation, without erecting any magical barriers. Severus looked around for the boy’s foolish friends; he could send one of them for help, but there was no sign of them. More worrying still was the fact that there were no signs of modern Rome either. There were no cafés, no cars, no street lights. Just a very narrow alley and hard baked earth instead of concrete. Severus sighed and wondered where exactly they might have been transported, a remote part of Africa, perhaps? Or South America?

Two children, a boy and girl, were standing nearby, watching them with close attention. They were wearing simple tunics in a plain buff colour, their feet bare.

The girl moved towards them, an expression of concern in her brown eyes, _“Domine? Quid est?”_

_Domine?_ Master? _Quid est?_ Something, wrong? Latin, they were speaking Latin? 

Severus looked up at the sky. The sun was in the same place as it had been only moments before. But that and the heat were the only things that hadn’t changed. 

Now that he had taken notice, he realised that everything else was different. The scents were pungent, almost overpowering, the noises were different, the buildings were much closer together and everywhere he looked there were Latin inscriptions and graffiti. Awnings overhung the alley in which they were situated, barrels were piled up against the wall and near where Potter lay there were piles of sacks, which were full of grains and fruit. There was a stall nearby that was surrounded by amphora which, going by the carvings on the outside, presumably contained wine. Bowls filled with grapes sat on a wooden table, helping to confirm Severus’ impression of a wine shop, and near the table a small dog was curled in the sunshine snoring gently. Apart from the dog and the children, the alleyway was deserted. 

For a moment Severus was tempted to cling to his initial thought, that they had somehow ended up in Africa or South America. After all, everything seemed so dusty, so touched with poverty. But the use of Latin, both spoken and written, was too frequent to be a coincidence; they hadn’t left Rome at all, Severus realised, they were still in the same place to which he had followed the trio. He now had the dreadful feeling they were in a different time. It wasn’t the late 1990s anymore, but it was definitely still Rome.

Ancient Rome!

“Oh, fuck,” Severus said again, quietly. He took a deep breath and turned to the children, _“Subvenite nos?”_ he asked. _“Subveniatis?”_

The girl gave him a small smile, _“Estne servus vulneratus?”_

Severus nodded. He thought the girl had asked whether Potter was hurt. _“Subveniatis?”_ he repeated the plea for help.

_“Certe,”_ the girl replied, she turned and headed towards the shop with the amphora outside. _“Sequamini?”_

Severus carefully picked the boy up. He was as floppy as a child’s rag doll and surprisingly insubstantial, much more fragile than Severus would have supposed. Potter’s head lolled so that it rested on Severus’ shoulder and, holding him carefully, he followed the children into the shop that sold wine. 

 

***********

 

The boy was breathing easier at last and Severus didn’t think he was going to get any worse. They were in a small back room behind the shop that had become their refuge. The girl had been in and out, tending to them, watching them solemnly with those large, brown eyes of hers. Severus wanted to ask her so much, but his Latin was very shaky. It was one thing to have studied it and learned its rules, another to speak it in the real world. 

The girl, her companion, a tall, pale boy with rust-red hair, and the woman that seemed to own the shop, all seemed to be treating him with respect, awe even. They had watched as he had stripped Potter down and applied salve to his wounds, of which there were many. The boy was covered in deep cuts and dark bruises. Thanks to the potions these had faded a bit, but not nearly enough in Severus’ opinion. Potter’s injuries had been pretty severe, though thankfully not life threatening. He also realized that the small stock of potions he always carried with him was almost exhausted and there was no way to replenish them any time soon.

He removed Potter’s overlarge t-shirt and the baggy khaki shorts he had been wearing, trying not to notice the lithe, young form that was beneath the bruises. Gods, the boy was beautiful!

He was also very pale, his right ankle was swollen, it looked like a severe twist to Severus, and he also suspected that Potter might have internal injuries. He had forced a Blood Replenishing Potion, a Bruise Potion and a potion to mend bone fractures down the boy’s throat, as he thought Potter’s ribs were most likely cracked.

He also suspected that it was the way that they were dressed that had given their rescuers a somewhat helpful impression of who they might be. Severus’ dark, heavy robes indicated that he was a man of some importance, whereas Potter’s scruffy garments suggested his status, too. They had watched Severus tend the boy and gasped as he had applied the salves. Finally they had screwed up the courage to ask him if he were a _veneficus_. Severus thought that the word meant many things: poisonous, magical, wizard. 

But the little family who had helped him did not seem too upset at the thought that he might be a wizard; in fact, they could not have been more helpful. But that was not altogether surprising. If this was Ancient Rome, and Severus had no reason to think that it was not, then medical help was hard to come by, for the ordinary citizen at least, and the magic that he was using, even if he was being very careful and only demonstrating a very small part of what he was capable of, seemed to delight his new friends, not scare them. 

Severus supposed it was not all that surprising as magic had been accepted in this time. It was only later, many hundreds of years into the future, that magic became a bad thing and wizards had to retreat _‘sub rosa’_ to keep their lives and their secrets. As far as this family could see, Severus was obviously helping Potter, so he could probably be of help to them and it certainly would not hurt to have a wizard in your debt. 

He told them that he was indeed a wizard and that he came from Hispania. He knew quite a lot of Spanish, and mixed with his adequate Latin, that would probably be enough to get them by. He doubted that he could have fooled a Roman soldier or a senator, but none of the people that he had met so far were likely to have ever travelled to such a distant province and, from his hazy recollections of Roman history, Spain had been conquered very early in the Empirical rule. 

His pretended Hispanic influence also helped to explain his shaky Latin. He told his rescuers, haltingly, that he and his boy had been travelling to Rome, that they were here to open a shop. It was not until he searched his memory and finally remembered that the Latin for boy was _puer,_ that Severus realised that these people did not think that Potter was his apprentice or his servant; they thought that Potter was a _servus_ a slave.

Severus was coldly amused at the thought of how the spoiled, arrogant hero of the wizarding world would react when he awoke to find that he had been enslaved by default. But then, in some ways, it did make sense to play along with their assumption. Potter’s Latin was atrocious! Severus should know, he had marked enough of his pitiful essays. Ironically, as a slave Potter would belong to Severus as his property and be better protected than if he were merely a servant in Severus’ employ. Severus knew that he could easily pass for a citizen of Rome, he had been very careful when the family had been questioning him about his origins to be vague on specifics but clear as to his rank and status. He wasn’t sure exactly when they were, but he had found out that Augustus was Emperor, so luckily for them they had arrived in Rome during a relatively peaceful period in its history.

Under Augustus’ strict laws, he was a protected Roman citizen, even if he was from another province. No one would try to take a man’s property and Severus knew that Potter was a tasty plum indeed, who would fetch a tidy sum on the auction block if anyone suspected that he might not be a citizen. No, Severus told himself, Potter was definitely better off masquerading as a slave who already belonged to a good citizen, rather than risking trying to persuade the territorial, all conquering Romans that he was a free man from another country who had no Latin whatsoever. Everyone spoke Latin, it was the thread that held the Empire together and without it Potter was vulnerable.

_“Vos facio medicina, Domine?”_ the woman, whom Severus assumed was the owner of the shop, asked quietly, breaking into his thoughts. She had watched him heal Potter, he could not hide the efficacy of his potions, and was perhaps wondering if this was how she could claim repayment in return for her kindness.

_“Certe,”_ Severus replied, confirming that yes, he did make medicines. Though it would take him some time to find the ingredients that he would need. But then they might be here awhile anyway. Severus had no idea how they had managed to travel over two thousand years in time, which meant that he also had no idea how the fuck he was going to get them home again.

His affirmative reply had been enough for the woman who had taken them in. She immediately fired off a string of rapid Latin at the girl beside her. The girl scurried away, as directed, only to return moments later with a plate of bread and olives and a goblet of wine. Severus accepted the repast and tried hard to follow the woman’s speech. She apparently regaled him with an endless stream of ailing relatives who all seemed to need treatment of one sort or another and, with a mixture of simple Latin and hand signals, told him that her family would help Severus and Potter, if he brewed them potions for their various ailments in return.

 

********

 

The Potter boy did not awake that day or the next. He murmured in his sleep, begging softly for help from goodness knew who, but Severus tuned out Potter’s ramblings and opted instead to search his things. Finally, the family had left him alone. Communal living was the norm in Rome, it seemed, and modern ideas of privacy had no place here. Consequently, this was the first time since they had arrived that Severus had time to investigate the boy’s belongings without prying eyes watching his every move. 

He wasted precious moments checking that the boy’s wounds were indeed healing well, casting several, surreptitious charms to ensure that there were no hidden, serious injuries and that the boy was indeed healing as he should be.

Potter had been wearing an overlarge t-shirt and a pair of baggy shorts until Severus had removed them to tend to his wounds. He had also had a small backpack with him. Now that Severus was on his own for a little while, he thought it would be a good chance to see what the boy had been carrying about. The backpack was strange, it looked like an ordinary Muggle bag, one of those mass produced, cheaply made things. The zip was as nasty as the rest of it, Severus thought, but it opened easily enough. There were far more things inside than the bag should have been able to hold. Some Muggle money was in a wallet at the top of the bag and he quickly discarded that, it was of no use to them in Ancient Rome. There were also changes of clothes, again useless for their current situation. More useful were the two wands inside the bag, one of which tingled under Severus’ fingers. Draco’s wand. What the hell was Potter doing with it?

He quickly and surreptitiously cast _Tempus,_ the wand worked well for him. He was surprised when the glowing figures in the air read 7th hour. How strange! He smiled to himself. They were in Rome and the wand was showing the correct local time. In Roman time-telling, the day was divided into twelve equal segments, as was the night. The innate magic of the spell had reacted to the Ancient Roman method of telling the time. 

Severus determined to put such thoughts aside for now, and instead continued his search.

Other things held promise for them, too. Potter’s Invisibility Cloak had been rolled up and tucked inside the bag. Severus smiled smugly to himself when he spotted that. There was also a strange leather covered book that Severus set aside to look at later that day. Last, but not least, a large bag that appeared to have a charm on it similar to the one on the rucksack, one that seemed to hold three times its size in Sickles, Knuts and Galleons.

Severus was surprised at how relieved he felt. They could survive. They would be all right. They could live here comfortably until they sorted something out, until they discovered how to get back. Severus bundled together everything that would be of use and hid it under the Invisibility Cloak. He did not want the family to find it, or Potter either, for that matter. The boy would be sure to do something foolish and end up putting them in danger.

Severus had always thought that Albus overindulged the boy, no doubt out of misplaced guilt for the way he had used him, but such treatment had done nothing whatsoever to curb his ridiculous Gryffindor tendencies. The more Severus thought about it, the more the slave idea seemed like a good one. No one here would stop him giving the boy a good thrashing if he tried to resist Severus’ instructions.

Severus didn’t even try to squash the thrill of sheer delight that ran through him at the idea of Potter resisting Severus’ tentative plans but he almost jumped out of his skin when a raspy voice interrupted his thoughts, calling him by name.

“Professor Snape?”

Severus whirled around.

A pair of green eyes were watching him. Severus fleetingly wondered if Potter had seen him hide the backpack, but after consideration he realised that he could not have done, Severus had obscured his actions well.

“Where am I?” Potter asked.

Severus felt his lip curl. “Are you not going to berate me, Potter? Last time you saw me, you were threatening to kill me!”

Potter sighed, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I was much more naïve then.” He leaned back against the rough Hessian pillow on which he was lying and closed his eyes; somehow the room seemed darker without their viridian luminescence.

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll take you to the Dark Lord?” Severus spat. He felt unsettled by Potter’s comments. Why wasn’t the boy being rude? Potter was always rude. Severus ruthlessly squashed the thought that rose unbidden and unwanted, and which suggested that Potter was rude to him because of the way he had always treated Potter.

“Why would you take me to the Dark Lord, from whom you have been trying to protect me for so long? Besides I can’t feel Him, so we must be a very long way away from where we were.”

Severus felt his jaw drop and closed his mouth with an audible clack.

“What are you blathering about?” he snarled.

The boy tried to lift his head to look at Severus again, but gave up very quickly with a small groan. Severus wasn’t surprised. Potter had landed quite heavily and had given his head a nasty bump. 

“I feel him all the time,” the boy said. “Voldemort, I mean. He’s always in my head, an ache in my scar. I’ve felt him constantly ever since he possessed me in the Ministry of Magic, every minute, every hour. But I don’t feel him now, so we can’t be in Rome anymore; we must be somewhere much further away.”

Severus shivered, he couldn’t help himself. The thought of feeling Voldemort as a constant presence made him want to be sick. The connection with the Dark Lord that Severus shared was more than enough for him; he felt twinges in it occasionally, sharp pain when he was summoned, but to feel him all the time?

Potter, however, had given him a perfect opening, so Severus used it. “It is not so much a matter of where, Potter, as when. Thanks to your foolish behaviour we seem to have triggered a spell which has thrown us back in time. We are still in Rome, but we are in the Rome of Augustus, probably about twenty years before Christ.”

“Riiight!” Potter said. 

“You don’t think that I am telling you the truth?”

“No, Professor, that is the problem, I do believe you.” Severus had been ready to tear Potter to shreds, rant about his arrogance and stupidity. He was used to the boy’s aggression; he didn’t know how to deal with a Potter who was listening to him, not arguing at all.

He wondered if the boy was in a lot of pain. The potion he had given Potter would have taken the edge off whatever he was feeling, but Severus could do no more than that; he simply didn’t have any potions left and was not about to risk using any of the wands to heal the boy. He did not want to risk being caught using a wand around Muggles nor was he sure quite how his magic would work here. Severus thought with relish that Potter would have to heal naturally.

“Are you hurting a lot?” he found himself asking.

Potter shrugged and then winced.

”I’ve had worse,” he said. “Erm… was it you who took my clothes off?” He still didn’t look at his ex-Professor. Severus thought that he probably couldn’t lift his head.

“I had to treat your injuries,” Severus answered shortly.

“Oh. Well, thanks. Er,…Sir, did I,…um, was there a backpack with me? When we arrived here? I was wearing it when I got blown up.”

“A backpack? What is that?”

“Er, it’s a bag that has two shoulder straps. Ron and I had one each. Hermione found a spell that made them larger inside; I had everything in it, all my special stuff.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Potter,” Severus sneered.

The boy paled even further. For a brief second a look of total devastation crossed his features.

“Oh,” he said in a tiny voice.

Severus felt a pang of guilt. What had made the boy look like that? The supposed loss of his wand? Or perhaps it was the Invisibility Cloak? Maybe Potter thought he would be able to sneak around here as easily as he did at Hogwarts? It would be a long time before he saw any of his possessions if Severus had anything to do with it.

The girl entered. She was carrying a goblet and a plate of what looked like cheese and olives.

_”Hello, Sir,”_ she said in Latin, her tone quiet and respectful. _“How’s your slave?”_

_“Better, thank you. He’s awake.”_

_“Good,”_ she said with a smile. _“Do you want something for him, Sir?”_

_“Some water would be good, please?”_ Severus responded.

The girl’s eyes had flicked over to Potter’s semi-naked form and Severus was hard pressed not to growl at her. Potter was his! He was not here for some chit of a girl to ogle. And where the heck had that thought come from?

_“The water is not good, Sir. Perhaps you would permit him some watered wine?”_ Severus felt a thrill run through him; he discovered, to his astonishment, that he wanted no-one giving anything to Potter without his say so.

_“Yes, I will permit him some wine, but I’ll be the one to give it to him. He’s new to slavery and he must learn that he belongs to me.”_ The girl nodded and hurried out.

Severus turned back to the boy, moving closer as he did so. Potter, who no longer needed to lift his head in order to see Snape, was looking at him again. He wondered if the boy had understood any of the conversation that had just taken place. 

Potter unwittingly answered his question.

“She thinks that I’m your servant?” 

Severus could not control the smirk that curled his lips. “Oh no, Potter, she thinks that you are my slave.” Potter’s eyes widened.

“Your slave?” he squeaked, causing Severus’ smirk to expand.

“By the time I realised that is what they thought you were, it was already too late.” 

“Figures,” Potter said forlornly. “I guess that fits in perfectly with my wonderful fucking life!” 

“It actually makes sense. You have no Latin, you could have a lot of problems if you were on your own. I will keep you safe until we can get back.” 

Potter sighed, “I got that the girl was speaking in Latin. But you understood her, you spoke to her. You’re right…I couldn’t have done that. We could be in danger here, couldn’t we? I remember what Rome was like from school, gladiators and Spartacus and all that.” He sighed again, “What do I have to do?”

Severus was astonished. The boy had not argued with him. He was watching Severus with those beautiful green eyes of his, Lily’s eyes, and Severus had to ruthlessly squash an unexpected pang of guilt. He had expected the boy to throw a major tantrum, to rant and rave like his wretched father would have done. But Potter hadn’t. He had known more about Rome than Severus expected, but then he often forgot that Potter was Muggle raised. Muggles learned about Rome in primary school. Even so, the boy had accepted Severus’ explanation very easily and Severus thought that there was far more to be discussed, but not right then.

“Sit up first, I have something for you to drink. You must be thirsty.” Severus put an arm behind the boy’s thin shoulders and helped him lift his head. He seemed very weak and sipped tentatively at the watered wine, pulling some very strange faces as he swallowed.

“Yuck,” he said finally, “that was disgusting.”

“Perhaps,” Severus said, “but you must not become dehydrated; that could happen all too easily and there would be no medical assistance here.”

Potter wrinkled his nose.

“You also have to do as you are told,” Severus continued. “I have some money, enough to keep us going for a while. We need to find somewhere to live, something to do that allows us to fit in whilst I… whilst we, find a way to seem part of this society. Until we can get back to our own time, that is. My Latin is rusty, I can get by at the moment, but no more. We must be careful.

“The girl brought some food for you, by the way. Are you hungry?”

Potter sighed again, much more deeply this time. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do what you tell me, we’ll work something out. Erm…, no , I’m not hungry. I feel a bit sick, I think. Can I sleep now, Professor?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. The boy was still concussed, he had suspected that to be the case. Potter had been too malleable, had agreed too easily to Severus’ demands, and the nausea was the final indication. He determined they would talk again, when the boy was better.

“Call me _Domine,_ from now on, Potter,” he replied. “We cannot take any risks; we are strangers here, we cannot afford for them to suspect anything. The Romans do not need much of an excuse to become violent. Human life means little here.”

“Yes, _Domine,_ I understand, I get it.” Potter sounded a bit exasperated, “I will do as you tell me, I promise. I’ll do what I can to help get us home and not put us in danger here. I don’t  always just rush about blindly, you know; I am capable of being careful when I need to be.”

Severus sneered at that, but didn’t speak. The boy did still look very tired and he had acquiesced far more easily than Severus thought he would. For today at least, it would be enough. 

“Erm, what does Domine mean, anyway?” Potter said in a weary voice.

“It means master,” Severus said coolly. “Now, go to sleep.”

 

***********

 

Potter was sleeping again. Severus believed that the suspected concussion was still in evidence, but his breathing seemed easier at last. The girl who was, it seemed, the daughter-in-law of Modia, the _Materfamilias_ who had taken them in, was called Hermia. She seemed to be rather taken with Potter. Severus thought that he would have to nip that in the bud. The girl had a perfectly serviceable husband, even if he seemed to be mute. Modia had asked him to dinner and Hermia was serving a stew of some sort, with bread. The stew was weak and watery and the bread was leaden and doughy, but Severus was hungry so he tucked in anyway.

_“There is an empty shop in the next alley,”_ Modia said. _“You could take that if you have any money saved, it is for sale.”_ She looked at him in a calculating way; Severus suspected she was thinking he could be a good addition to her list of patrons and, it was true, he already owed her a debt. This tentative suggestion was a way to cement their relationship. A relationship that could be useful for both of them.

_“It sounds interesting,”_ Severus said carefully, still very uncertain of his Latin. _“I don’t think it would hurt to look.”_

Modia smiled at him.

 

*********

 

Modia took him to see the shop herself, directly after dinner. It was a mean little square room with a ratty curtain screening a doorway in the back of the shop. It was absolutely filthy, the dirt was ground in everywhere. But Modia was practically fizzing with the possibilities of it all, especially when Severus expressed an interest in also purchasing the empty premises next door to the shop. Rufus had accompanied them but Hermia had stayed behind, ‘to keep an eye on your slave.’ Severus would rather have left Rufus behind, especially as the boy could not speak, but he was not about to upset his benefactress by hinting that her daughter-in-law was flirting with Potter. 

The girl was a freedwoman, she and Modia and Rufus all wore those funny little caps that Severus had read about. That meant that all of them had been slaves at one point and still owed their allegiance to their _Dominus,_ though they would probably call him a _Paterfamilias_ now. Severus suspected that the man owned most, if not all, of the alley where Modia had her shop. If Severus was well off enough to own his own premises he could be quite an ally for them. Not that Severus minded too much, this woman had a hard life.

He smiled at her.

_“It is good,”_ he told her and he received an instant reward when her plain, solid face lit up in a smile that easily outshone his.

 

*******

 

He had to carry Potter to the shop the next day as the boy still couldn’t walk. If Severus had access to his workshop he could have easily brewed something, but he did not, so the boy would just have to get better in the Muggle way. He had managed a couple of quick spells surreptitiously, whilst no one was looking, to accelerate the healing process. But the boy’s bruises had faded considerably and Severus thought that, whilst still a bit sore, Potter’s ribs would not be the agony they might have been if Severus had not dosed him with potion. Modia had given Severus a sack for their belongings and he had buried Potter’s rucksack at the bottom, under the cloak that he had discarded in the heat. The boy wore only a simple tunic which Severus had transfigured from the baggy t-shirt that he’d been wearing upon their arrival, and nothing else. 

He had protested a little at the lack of underwear but Severus had pointed out that as a slave he would not be likely to wear any. So Potter had stopped protesting, just like that. Severus couldn’t help wishing that they had been thrown back in time years ago; he rather liked telling Potter what to do and having him acquiesce so easily.

Severus had gone over all the rules again this morning, expecting the boy to protest now that he seemed to be recovering, but he hadn’t. He had just nodded, agreed to all the restrictions that Severus mentioned and ate his way slowly through the first meal he had eaten since their arrival.

The boy looked simply delectable in the plain tunic, well at least as far as Severus was concerned. He liked the fact that Potter’s long slim legs were on view, rather than hidden under the ratty clothing that the boy had always insisted on wearing; he liked the fact that the neck of the tunic exposed Potter’s collar bone and that the tunic had rucked up whilst Potter was in his arms giving him an uninterrupted view of a delectable thigh.

Severus was convinced that the boy would be back to his annoyingly disobedient self after a day or two, once the bruises had faded and he was feeling better; so, he determined to enjoy this new, meek Harry Potter whilst the apparent personality change lasted. There was no denying that when he shut up and did as he was told, the boy was mouth-wateringly attractive. It had always been his dreadful misbehaviour and odious personality that had repelled Severus in the past. If Potter stuck by his promises and behaved himself and kept out of Severus’ way, being in Rome might just be less of an ordeal. Severus, however, was not going to let his expectations be raised just yet.

The purchase of the shop and the empty premises next door could not have been easier. The man who owned them had been only too pleased to sell, something that Severus thought would bear further investigation, but as he and Potter were not planning on staying very long Severus was prepared to take a chance. He suspected that the sight of the Galleons was what had made the man’s eyes light up. After all, gold was still gold regardless the shape it came in; so, after a quick comment about the strange design, the coins were squirreled away in a leather pouch. It took just 45 Galleons to secure the purchase, leaving plenty left in the makeshift money-bag and Severus was handed a scroll confirming his ownership. 

Severus was very pleased. The amalgamation of the two shops would give them a very roomy workshop and living space. A connecting door would be added so that Severus could have a Potions lab and adjoining store room. There was room for a shop and several small rooms at the back that could be their living quarters and behind the building there was a small, enclosed courtyard, filled with rubbish and rubble but with a lot of potential. 

There was a broken bed in one of the back rooms so he set Potter down on it and turned to talk to Modia. _“It is good,”_ he said with a smile. _“I need erm…things…for my potions.”_

_“You should go to the market,”_ Modia said. _“I must go too. We go together?”_

Severus nodded, their conversation was still very stilted, but he could understand her well enough. He had transferred some of Potter’s Galleons to a small pouch that he had transfigured from one of Potter’s socks. He needed to purchase cauldrons, or whatever their Roman equivalent was. He also needed bottles and jars for the finished potions and he needed to find out what ingredients he could obtain. Then, without saying another word, he wandered out into the sunshine.

The market was incredible. He didn’t think that he had ever been anywhere so vibrant and full of life. The unfamiliar noises, the vibrancy and movement were unlike anything Severus had ever seen before.

Shouts rang out. Friends welcomed each other and chatted and laughed, vendors hawked their wares. Laughter pealed through the streets, musicians played their instruments and children chased after one another in amongst the throng of people.

The stalls were of every shape and size, crammed with wares of every sort. Bright cloth was draped on strangely shaped tables, there were bowls of interesting spices, pots, amphora, baskets and slaves.

Slaves.

There was a whole area of the marketplace that was roped off, reserved for the dreadful commodity of humans. Modia didn’t even seem to notice, but to Severus their misery was palpable.

People were tethered to posts like animals. Some were tied tightly, hands pulled behind them and secured with rough rope. Others were chained, rusty links clinking as they moved. Some sat patiently, moving little, eyes fixed on the ground. This last group were probably the ones who were more used to their slavery, they had either been born into it or sold by their families or themselves. They were every size, colour and physical type but whilst the market thrummed with movement and life, they were distinguished by their stillness. Severus turned away. 

Instead of staring at such sad examples of Roman society, he chose to look around and see what ingredients he could recognise, if there was anything available to create a base for potions. Modia was invaluable, she bartered on his behalf, located a pair of large baskets which Severus filled with ingredients, both herbal and mineral, and borrowed a slave to carry them back to the shop. Severus also arranged for a number of other items, from bedding to cauldrons to be delivered. Finally they made their way back to his new home.

It was tidier, much tidier. Severus was glad that the girl had stayed behind, seeing as how she had used her time so industriously. Hermia had tied a makeshift apron around her waist and she was sweeping the earth floor with a broom. Potter came awkwardly into the room, he had fashioned a makeshift crutch out of two pieces of wood. He, too, had made himself an apron and he was clutching a large cloth.

He looked up as Severus came in, his face breaking into a smile. “Hi, Professor, how was the market?”

“You should be resting that ankle, Potter, or you will damage it permanently,” Severus snapped. He could have used the boy’s help to stow away his new potions ingredients but, as far as Severus could see, he was practically useless. “Do you never listen? And you should speak Latin.” The boy flushed and looked down at his feet.

“Sorry,” he said.

_“Latin, Potter!”_ Severus hissed. _“And call me Domine!”_

 

**********

 

For the next two days the boy helped him clean the room that he wanted to use as a Potions lab, hobbling about on his makeshift crutch until Severus kicked him out. He was in the way, anyway, and Severus knew the boy was useless at Potions; he didn’t want him anywhere near his limited supplies. Potions were the only way that he had of getting them home. He had some ideas, one or two things that he might try, but he needed to experiment, he needed to research and he expected the boy to keep out of the room and out of his sight.

He had told the boy this, explained their predicament, underlined that they were only here, that he was only here, because of Potter’s stupidity. He emphasised that there was no guarantee that he would be able to get them home, but if there was any chance that he could, he would need to experiment, do research and that Potter would need to do his part. He would be expected to clean for them, run the shop and, most importantly, stay out of Severus’ way.

The boy had been unable to meet Severus’ eyes and had remained silent. Perhaps at last, Potter was finally realising how drastically his impetuosity had affected them? 

Potter seemed subdued, anyway. His Latin was as execrable as Severus had expected. He stammered and stuttered through three and four word sentences. The girl popped in from time to time, but Potter couldn’t communicate with her with any more ease than he could with Severus, even if she did simper and flutter at him. Severus refused to answer the boy at all if he used English; he would just have to learn. Finally he lapsed into blessed silence and Severus was able to concentrate. 

On the third day after they had moved in, Potter came into his lab again and Severus bellowed at him to get out.

_“Please, Domine, man come,”_ Potter managed to splutter in his dreadful broken Latin.

Severus smirked.

“As eloquent as ever, Potter?” Severus said, in English, knowing that his comment would be lost on the boy if he spoke in Latin

“You’re speaking English!” 

“Yes, but I can speak both languages. Until you can make yourself understood in Latin, you will not speak English and, if you do, you will be punished.”

Potter glared at him.

_“Man come,”_ he said in a sullen tone.

“And what do you expect me to do about it?”

_“You come see?”_

“Well I don’t know, you have not been very respectful about asking me.”

_“Please?”_

“Please, what?”

Potter was gritting his teeth now.

_“Please, Domine, man come, you come see?”_

“Really Potter, you should have just said that in the first place!” Severus drawled, greatly enjoying the strangled sound that the boy made. Smirking, he followed him to the front.

The man in question had heavy features and appalling teeth.

_“Good, afternoon, Sir,”_ he said, smiling in an oily sort of way as soon as Severus walked into the area that would eventually be their shop. _“I sent your slave to fetch you. My name is Marcus Iulius; I run the flint and slate shop across the alley.”_ Severus looked beyond the man, the building which had been boarded up since they had arrived was now open and he could see piles of slate, presumably for writing and flint for lighting fires.

_“I’ve been away,”_ the man said. _“I didn’t know that this shop was up for sale, I know someone who would have been interested in purchasing it.”_

_“Really?”_ Severus drawled. _“And whom might this person be?”_

_“Oh, er…my patron. He wishes to invest in this area; he has been searching for more premises here for some time.”_

The man frowned, seemingly deeply perplexed. _“I don’t understand. Vibius, the man you bought from, he knew my patron was seeking to purchase these shops and, yet, he said he would never sell!”_

Severus smiled to himself, no wonder the property had been so reasonable. Marcus Iulius wore the cap of a freedman, he also sported the nomen of the man who had once been his master. The infamous Iulius Nocens, Severus supposed. They might have travelled two thousand years in time, but there were still minions in Ancient Rome, Severus told himself wryly. 

Modia, had been very clever. Whilst never overtly criticising her patron, which was of course unthinkable, she had nevertheless given Severus the impression that she truly did not like him. This man, however, seemed to be a loyal servant, and a desired property had been whisked away from the Nocens family whilst Marcus had been elsewhere. No wonder he looked less than happy, Severus did not doubt his erstwhile master would have a sharp word or two for his servant.

It seemed to Severus that perhaps Gaius Iulius Nocens was not popular at all. The sale of the shop had been processed very rapidly and cheaply with the handing over of the money to Vibius. Severus had wondered why and now he had his answer. The people of this district felt that they did not need any more spies in their midst. He almost laughed at that; how little they knew!

It explained a lot to Severus: how he had been accepted so quickly, how he had managed to purchase the shop so easily and why he had received so much support from his neighbours. Severus had prevented Iulius moving another lackey into the lives of the people around him – and for that they were grateful and would give Potter and him a chance. 

Meanwhile, Severus knew that he had a spy for a neighbour and he would be very careful about what he said and allowed the man to see. Perhaps a disillusion charm on the property would be useful? But, he would have to be even more careful using magic than he had supposed. He was once again glad that he had managed to hide Potter’s rucksack as the boy would never be able to control his wand waving, if he had been allowed a wand.

Not that the boy was being particularly boisterous right then. At the moment he was eyeing Marcus Iulius warily.

_“My patron would be very interested if you were to consider selling to him,”_ Marcus said slyly. _“I am sure that he would reward you handsomely. I hear that you are new here, from Hispania? There are many wonderful districts in Rome, most of them far more salubrious than this one. With the profit you might make you would be well suited to move further into the centre, near the circus perhaps?”_

Severus allowed himself a sneer.

_“Thank you, Marcus Iulius, for thinking of me, but my slave and I are very happy here, aren’t we Potter?”_ He turned to the boy as he spoke.

Potter was watching the interaction carefully, he nodded.

_“Yes, Domine.”_

Interesting, Severus thought, perhaps the boy was beginning to understand more Latin? That would be helpful; Severus could stop using English around Potter when he wanted the boy to understand what was required of him. If they had an observer living so close that would definitely be a good idea.

Marcus had turned to the boy and was eying the young, slim body with a very obvious leer on his face.

He reached out a hand and grabbed Potter’s hair, pulling him closer. _“He would be very interested in purchasing this pretty little thing, too.”_ Potter flinched, but he didn’t pull away he just looked at Severus with wide green eyes.

_“I thank you, Sir, for your kind offer, but if you do not take your hands off my slave then I will break your fingers one by one, tear them off and make you eat them,”_ Severus said evenly.

For a big man with such meaty fingers Marcus Iulius moved remarkably fast, he withdrew his hand from Potter’s hair and placed it by his side instead.

The boy rubbed at his scalp.

_“I…I have been away far too long, I have work to do,” the man croaked as he retreated rapidly into the morning sunshine._

_“Thank you, Domine.”_ Potter said, his green eyes, widening remarkably, shone with something that looked strangely like gratitude.

 

**********


	2. chapter two

Chapter Two - in which Severus is a bit of a bastard to Harry - some rather rough sex in this chapter.

see last chapter for thank yous and explainations

 

Chapter Two

 

Two days later and Severus’ lab was almost ready. Modia had sent a friend over to build some shelves and workbenches and install two internal doors, one which would lead to the shop, which Severus did not plan on using very often, and one in the entryway which led to the rest of the premises. He had told Potter that he could order whatever shelves and furniture he thought would be of use in the shop when Bassus, the rotund joiner, had finished in Severus’ lab; following which Severus had sent the boy to fetch something to eat and drink. Bassus was on his hands and knees fitting hinges when Potter fell over him.

_“For Circe’s sake, Potter, why can’t you look where you are going?”_

The boy scrambled to his feet. He had cut his forehead in his fall and it was bleeding steadily. Severus handed him a cloth.

Then he realised, Potter wasn’t wearing his glasses, hadn’t been wearing them since they arrived. They must have been lost somewhere in the explosion of magic that had sent them here. No wonder he had been even slower than usual.

Severus helped Bassus up, apologising profusely about the clumsiness of his slave, and sent the portly man through to the room that Severus was using as a bedroom; he really did not want the workman in the same room as them whilst he was making Potter’s potion. There was no glass in his bedroom windows and Severus had decided that he needed some shutters and some storage so he set the joiner to work on those.

_“How much can you see, boy?”_ Severus asked, once Bassus had left.

Potter shrugged. _“I’m all right.”_

Severus scowled at him and switched to English. “You are patently not all right, Potter! You just fell over a man who is called _Bassus,_ which - because your Latin is still execrable – means plump, denoting his size, and you didn’t see him, did you?” 

Potter blushed. 

“ _I…er…um…no_?”

“Why on earth did you struggle on with those dreadful glasses? Was it that important that you continue to resemble your odious father? At least he had an excuse, there was no real cure for short sightedness when he was your age. Why have you never just taken an Occulist Potion?”

_“There potion?”_

“Yes, there is  is a potion, Potter,” Severus replied rolling his eyes at the boy’s ungrammatical Latin.

Severus guided the boy to a chair, firmly grasping him by one slim arm. “Sit down, boy, and don’t speak a word.”

It did not take Severus long to make the potion; the ingredients were easily available and the potion itself was very easy to prepare. All the while, Potter sat and watched him and didn’t say anything at all.

He took the potion when Severus gave it to him without complaint and as the concoction took effect his green eyes widened yet again as he looked around in astonishment. With no glasses to obstruct his view, Severus thought he could easily become addicted to those eyes, which was a very disturbing thought in itself. But the boy was obviously seeing clearly at last, making him far more useful as a support for Severus. He told himself quite firmly that this was the ONLY reason he had made the potion in the first place.

“Wow!” Potter said. “Wow, this is amazing, Domine! Everything is so clear. I can really see.”

“Don’t speak, Potter, unless it is in Latin.”

The boy’s face broke into a surprisingly sweet smile that made Severus uncomfortably aware of how strongly he resembled his mother sometimes. He had her eyes and her smile and the same long slim legs and delicious slim feet.

_“Thank you, Domine,”_ Potter said sincerely.

 

********

 

Severus noted grumpily that Potter seemed to be everywhere, now that the boy could see clearly and wasn’t running into things all the time. He was constantly getting in the way. The brat kept bringing through trays of food; little tid-bits to tempt him, and butter him up, Severus thought bitterly. Severus had to be downright rude to make him stay away.

But he still took the boy with him the next market day. The green eyes were wider than he had ever seen them as Potter took in the sights and sounds of the market-place. Then he saw the slaves. Severus felt quite disconcerted when the boy held on to his robes and somehow moved closer to him. Potter had always been ridiculously brave, throwing himself in the way of danger without a second thought, but here he seemed so very young and vulnerable and Severus felt strangely protective of the boy.

“Professor?” the boy’s voice whispered, in English, close to his ear. “Do you think that they will be all right?” He was staring at the sad group of figures that Severus didn’t like looking at either.

“No, Potter, I do not think that they will be all right! They are on sale in the market-place. I believe that at this moment they are as far from all right as it is possible to be.”

“Could we help them?” 

Severus whirled round on the boy, Potter seemed to shrink.

“No, we cannot help! We are in a culture that happily crucifies people! That chops off people’s hands if they steal something. That hamstrings slaves if they try to run. The only way to keep ourselves safe is to keep quiet and to try and fit in! If the slave market upsets you, Potter, do not look at it!”

The boy swallowed hard and looked down at his feet. “Would I have ended up there if I had been on my own?” He waved a hand in the direction of the pathetic souls that he couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at any longer, just as Severus had advised.

“But you were not on your own,” Severus said. “You were with me, you are with me. I have lodged citizen papers, I am legally a Roman citizen, and I am doing all I can to get us home. I will keep you safe, Potter, as I always have. Just remember, speak Latin, behave in a deferential way and we will get through this. I will not let you be hurt. Now we must move on, people are staring at us.” The boy nodded once and Severus turned around to carry on his journey.

He was not quite sure why he had felt the boy needed reassurance, or why he had felt that he should give it. This was Harry Potter, spoiled brat, over-indulged favourite of Albus Dumbledore and son of Severus hated worst enemy. But right at this moment he was also a frightened child, who was in Severus’ charge and Severus knew, that on this occasion at least, he had to put his own feelings aside and help the boy. This was why he chose to ignore the fact that Potter slipped his hand in Severus’ and held it tightly. 

At least that was what he told himself. 

 

**********

 

They had been in Rome now for almost three months, but Severus still felt no closer to discovering the way back home. He felt cross and frustrated. The door to Severus’ workshop was open, which didn’t help his mood at all. Most of the time it was firmly shut, but Potter must have forgotten to close it when he brought Severus his lunch. Severus had decided the boy was not allowed into the room any longer, he babbled on too much. But he could place a tray of food at the door as long as he didn’t disturb Severus’ research. The tray was indeed there, heaped with bread and cheese and fruit; Severus went to fetch it. 

Voices were drifting in from the shop, slightly raised, cutting into the otherwise quiet afternoon. A shrill girl’s voice seemed full of hilarity, but he could not distinguish the words. He huffed in annoyance, he was trying to work! Not wanting the noises from the shop disturbing him, he began to shut the door, but at the last minute he stopped, recognising the owner of the voice. The girl in the shop was the dratted Hermia.

Severus still didn’t trust the chit. He knew that she had told her mother-in-law that the boy reminded her of her own brother; but Potter was not unattractive and Severus still was not convinced that she would not sleep with him, if given half a chance. He wondered if the little hussy was flirting with the boy.

_“But they are taking bets now, Harry,”_ the girl giggled. _“Mater said that Thomas is making money out of you, on how long it’ll take your master to bed you.”_

Severus couldn’t hear Potter’s reply, it was a low mumble.

_“You should seduce him.”_

Severus moved closer to the door and peered though the gap. Potter was looking pensively at Hermia, he bit his lip. His answer was so soft that Severus barely heard it. _“He doesn’t want me, Hermia.”_

Hermia snorted. _“Of course he wants you! He is always looking at your arse!”_

Potter blushed.

_“No he isn’t, Hermia, he sort of feels responsible for me. That’s all.”_

_“But, Harry, it’s criminal, that’s what it is; you have to be the oldest virgin in Rome.”_

_“Hermia!”_ Potter hissed.

_“Well, it’s true!”_ Hermia insisted. _“And people, like Devis Iulius Nocens, are not going to leave you alone until your master has popped your cherry.”_

This time Potter squeaked his friend’s name. 

_“You could suck his cock,”_ she said cheekily. _“All men like their cocks being sucked, and you have such a nice mouth.”_ The girl had tilted her head to one side and was peering at the boy as if he were some sort of prize whore. 

Severus bristled at the girl’s insolence. He thought that Potter was going to start hyperventilating. But the girl was right, he did have a delectable mouth and the very thought of those lips wrapped around his own cock caused the organ in question to harden rapidly.

Hermia picked up the heavy wooden cylinder that Potter used as a rolling pin, she wiggled it back and forth near Potter’s mouth. _“Come on, Harry, open up, I’ll teach you what to do.”_

_“All right, Hermia. That’s enough! Please stop.”_ Potter looked quite distressed. 

_“I told you, he doesn’t want me!”_

_“Harry, trust me, he does. He has a hunger in his eyes when he looks at you.”_

_“Please don’t say that. He just sees me as a silly little boy.”_

Hermia sighed, _“Harry, your master is a bit of a catch, and you should let him know that you are ready to be caught.”_ Severus’ eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. He didn’t think anyone had ever said anything remotely like that about him in his entire life.  ‘A catch!’ Him? Severus Snape! Potter’s father would have died laughing.

_“If you don’t get a move on, someone else will move in on him and you’ll find yourself with a mistress telling you what to do, or a jealous young master, who might end up selling you if you get in his way.”_

Severus couldn’t help thinking this girl would have done well in Slytherin.

But Hermia had not finished, she was currently listing Severus’ attributes, which seemed to be far more extensive than Severus had ever thought them to be. She had praised his hair, his eyes, the fact that he wasn’t fat, the fact that he had all his own teeth. When she started speculating about the size of Severus’ penis, he felt more than a shred of gratitude towards Potter when the boy finally started manoeuvring the disrespectful wench out of the shop.

_“Do it tonight, Harry,”_ she called as he finally pushed her out into the street. Severus wanted to go and see the young man but he was disconcerted. Potter seemed rattled by the conversation, too. As well he might be, considering how forthright the young matron had just been. Severus was very far from being a prude; he had slept with a lot of different people in his life, but the Romans were far more frank about sex than any race of people that he had ever encountered before. Everywhere there were signs of their attitudes to sex, in the graffiti that decorated their walls, the statues, even in their temples. Sex was obvious, out in the open and discussed by everyone.

More than once he had heard speculation about Potter and himself, lewd speculation, crude suggestions. The talk had made Severus look at the boy in a different light, that and the overly short tunics the boy had taken to wearing. The ones that exposed those slim, brown legs of his, the neat little arse that Severus occasionally got glimpses of when Potter bent over. 

But the young man suddenly looked quite vulnerable and Severus felt surprisingly protective of him for a moment. Was he really thinking about seducing Severus? The stupid child! Severus would hardly be susceptible to any of the hackneyed attempts that a somewhat dim creature like Potter and his floozy girlfriend could come up with. 

But before he could open his door and go and speak to the boy, a hugely fat woman wearing a hideous green _stola_ bustled into the shop, shepherding several children before her and Potter turned to serve his customer.

Severus had lost the chance to talk to Potter, for now at least. The brat would have to come to him sooner or later, and when he did Severus told himself they would discuss how much Potter’s Latin had improved lately. Yes, that was it – they would talk about the boy’s language improvement, that and nothing else.

 

********

 

They had eaten dinner and Severus was in his study by the time Potter finally came to see him. Severus had set aside a room for the research that he had begun and he spent most evenings in there. It was one of the labyrinth of rooms that he and the boy had first cleared out all those weeks ago when they had first moved into this place. The lab was sacrosanct, Potter never disturbed him in there, but he was allowed in the storeroom to refresh ingredients and he could come into the study if he needed to ask anything of Severus.

_“Erm,…er,…Domine?”_ Potter said, tentatively knocking on Severus’ door. _“I need to speak with you?”_

_“What is it, Potter?”_

_“Can I sit down?”_ Potter, looked somewhat hopefully towards a chair. Severus, sighed.

_“If you must.”_

The boy took him up on his somewhat grudging offer and sat. He had his hands clenched in his lap and he was biting his lip. 

“Can we speak English, Domine?” Potter said in English.

Severus glared at the boy, perhaps not that confident yet, then? After holding the boy’s gaze for a moment, he finally nodded once, curtly.

“Hermia came to see me today and…” Potter paused.

“Yes?” Severus snapped.

Potter looked at him, rather nervously.

“She said that everyone is talking about us, that they are taking bets on when you’ll sleep with me. She said that she thought I should sleep with you; that you are a er…handsome man and that I should seduce you before it’s too late and someone else gets together with you.”

Severus didn’t know what to say. He had not been expecting Potter to be totally honest.

“I told her that you didn’t look at me that way. That you didn’t think much of me.”

“That was a bit presumptuous of you, Potter.”

The boy looked at him in surprise.

“But you don’t think much of me.”

“No, I don’t,” Severus agreed. “But I don’t have to like you to sleep with you. You are not unattractive. It is not as if there are many other options at the present time. Even if I liked women I would not be able to sleep with one here. What if a pregnancy occurred? The whole timeline could be affected. As for men? There are not many men of my own age that I’d wish to risk sex with. I could buy a boy and have him, but I would not do that; it would not be consensual and I do not wish to force myself upon anyone.

“If you wanted sex with me I wouldn’t try to discourage it or be adverse to making an arrangement between us.”

Potter’s jaw had dropped. He looked completely moronic for a moment and then he grinned.

“I’m not unattractive?”

Severus almost smiled, but decided against it. Instead he inclined his head in an affirmative gesture. “I am moderately interested in you.”

Potter’s grin widened, but then he looked puzzled. “Why would it be a risk to sleep with other men?”

“It would not be safe to sleep with anyone from this time, whichever sex they were. Disease is rife, it would be hard to protect oneself. Unless one slept with a virgin, and I doubt there are many of those in Rome.”

“Oh,” Potter said, and then, “Erm…I’m a virgin, Professor.” The boy was blushing deeply, he was obviously embarrassed so Severus did not chastise him on his use of the incorrect honorific. He had thought the boy to be dissembling when he had discussed this possibility with his freedwoman friend earlier, and she had teased him about it; however, it seemed that Hermia knew him well.

But he had to check.

“Really, Potter, you expect me to believe that! Surely you and that Weasley girl managed something during all those adolescent fumblings of yours? You are a healthy seventeen-year-old and you did spend an inordinate amount of time in a tent with Miss Granger, did you not?”

The blush deepened even further.

“I never have…erm never. And especially not with Hermione, she’s my friend, and she’s with Ron. I wouldn’t do that!”

“Oh come on, Potter!” Severus drawled. “Don’t tell me that you haven’t made use of your fame, what with all those little girls throwing themselves at you!”

Potter leapt to his feet. 

He was breathing hard and clenching and unclenching his fists. Severus somehow knew that he was going to begin shouting, so he surreptitiously cast a silencing charm around them so that the neighbours would not hear them arguing in English.

“Okay, fine! I get it! You don’t have to sleep with me, I am sorry I bothered you! I know you hate me but do you have to be so nasty? I've never had a chance to sleep with anyone. I have been too busy fighting Voldemort.” His breath hitched and he clenched his fists again, his eyes flashed dangerously as he struggled to hold on to his temper. Severus thought he looked gorgeous. “I don’t use my so called fame and I never have,” Potter shouted. “But even if I did, I wouldn’t use it on girls! I…I don’t even like girls that way.”

Severus let him have his tantrum, until finally running out of steam, Potter turned away, “Just forget it Professor…I’ll get out of your way.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic and sit down,” Severus sneered. For a moment the boy wavered and Severus thought he had lost him. If he left, Severus would have to go after him, as now that he had made his offer Severus was very keen to take him up on it. Severus thought that Potter was totally transparent. His emotions, his feelings were so easy to see on his face, chasing one after the other: embarrassment, hurt, uncertainty. Finally, Potter made a decision. He lifted his chin as if he was buoying up his confidence and then, somewhat reluctantly, he sat down again.

“Okay then, so what do we do first?”

Severus smirked. “We shall go through to my bedroom and you will take off that dreadful tunic. I am certain that you have a nice body under there, Potter, and I should like to see it.”

Potter flushed again. “All right, but you mustn’t hurt me and if you are going to fuck me then the least you can do is call me Harry.” That sweet chin of his was still raised in challenge, his eyes sparkled with a sort of fierce defiance and he trembled slightly, though whether from fear of what was about to happen or shock at his own audacity, Severus was unable to say.

“I shall be through momentarily, Harry,” Severus said.

The boy nodded and stood. In their own time Potter was one of the smallest in his year, even several of the girls were taller than he was, but here and now, amongst the Romans, the boy was a decent size. As he left the room, however, he looked young and vulnerable and very, very attractive. It was all that Severus could do to sit there and let the boy leave, he wanted to bend him over the work-bench and fuck him there and then, but that would never do. Severus was determined to play it cool, he didn’t want Potter to think that he wanted him; the boy was arrogant enough as it was.

But want him he did. Potter had been surprisingly quiet and respectful over the last few months since they had arrived here. Of course, he didn’t have much Latin to start with and was even now, after all these weeks, barely able to have a proper conversation, at least as Severus would wish to have one. He also had no access to his magic as Severus still had the two wands locked away. There had been nowhere he could go, no-one he could turn to, apart from Severus; maybe that was one of the reasons that the boy had finally turned to him? He felt lonely, isolated. Severus didn’t particularly care, Potter was hopelessly spoiled. It wouldn’t hurt him to struggle with his life for a while rather than having everything handed to him on a plate.

Severus took a deep breath. He had to calm himself, if he was going to sleep with the boy it would not do to be too annoyed. He had a selection of scented oils on the ever more crowded shelves of his store room, he chose one and then he went through to his bedroom.

Potter was curled up like a child on the bed. He had removed the tunic as instructed and also the breechcloth that he had taken to wearing as underwear. His eyes were closed and a fist was clenched near his head, his long slim legs were pulled up to his stomach, hiding his genitalia. Severus could see the somewhat grubby soles of his feet, the neat ankles, the small delectable toes. He was quite simply the most beautiful creature that Severus had ever seen.

Green eyes opened, glittering strangely in the half light as they gazed at his Potions Master. “I thought you weren’t coming,” the boy whispered.

Severus smiled. This was not the annoying brat that he had protected for seven years, or James Potter’s spawn. For tonight Potter was his lover and Severus would treat him as such. He held up the clay jar that he had detoured to fetch. “I thought we might need some lubrication.”

“Oh, um, yeah, right.” Potter blushed as those glorious eyes fell to look at the bed and he licked his lips nervously.

“Er… what do I do first?”

“It is not a test, Harry,” Severus said. The boy’s eyes widened as if he had not expected to hear his name, even though he had demanded that Severus promise to use it. He pulled those coltish limbs of his away from the centre of the bed to make room for them both and Severus sat down. He shrugged off his cloak but decided to leave on his tunic for the time being. The evening was cool, the boy’s skin was covered in tiny goose bumps. Severus ran his fingers along the soft flesh and Potter shivered.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as he placed his lips in the hollow of Potter’s throat, leaning forward to see if he tasted as sweet as he looked. The boy tasted of lemon verbena and the oil that he used to cleanse himself, his skin was like satin. Severus licked a line from the nape of the boy’s neck to just below his ear and then he took the fleshy lobe in his mouth and bit it.

Potter moaned. His hands came up in their turn and buried themselves in Severus’ hair. “Soft!” the boy exclaimed in what seemed like awed wonder. “So soft, so silky.”

Severus ran his own hands down the slim body beneath him, along the still too prominent ribs, stopping at the neat waist for just a moment before reaching the boy’s legs. Potter moaned again and as Severus’ questing fingers sought out the sweet young cock that lay hard against his thigh, his breath hitched. 

Severus grasped the cock gently. It was a good size and soft as satin. He gently lifted the foreskin with his thumb and circled the tip with his nail. The boy arched up beneath him, fingers buried ever deeper in Severus’ hair. “Oh, God!”

“Patience, Mr Potter. What have I told you about curbing that Gryffindor impetuosity of yours?” 

The boy moaned and arched further into Severus’ exploring hands.

“Please, oh please,” he whispered softly. Severus caressed Potter’s balls with his fingers, weighing each one in turn, squeezing them gently. The boy was melting under his touch and Severus wondered how often he had ever even touched himself. He had certainly never been stroked and teased as Severus was doing right now.

Potter reached above his head, hands that were as slim as the rest of him seeking purchase in the soft pillows. He whimpered as Severus bent down and nibbled a sweet pink nipple. Severus thought that he had never been as hard as he was right then; he had never had such a feast laid before him either.

Long moments passed as Severus played with the unsullied young body beneath him, and the boy teased him further with the delicious sounds that he was making. His eyes were glazed, the vibrant green dulled a little as he became lost in the sensations that overwhelmed him. A wet dusky-rose tongue crept out between lips swollen from bites the boy had inflicted upon himself. Severus wanted to savour those lips for himself, nibble them with his teeth, taste them with his own tongue. 

But not yet. 

Instead he sucked at the tender skin of the boy’s neck and shoulder, raising red, livid marks that he knew from experience would take days to fade. Had the Weasley girl ever marked him like this? 

No matter, she had never touched him so intimately, of that Severus was certain. 

He chuckled wryly as he bit down yet again. So they had made bets about him and the boy, these Romans who surrounded them and took far too much interest in their lives. Tomorrow no-one would doubt what had happened. Potter would be marked for everyone to see and comment. Severus sucked hard at the skin his bite had raised, causing the boy to moan in pain this time. “Shush, shhh,” he murmured against pale skin that was marked in blood. “Mine now, boy, all mine.”

Potter writhed beneath Severus’ ministrations and Severus growled deep in his throat. The boy was so passionate, so responsive. Normally he would not be allowed anywhere near a creature such as this boy, would not even consider doing something like this. He was so much older, old enough to be his father, he had been the boy’s teacher, and he hated him. And yet.

And yet.

Here, in this time, what he was doing was considered perfectly acceptable, expected even. His neighbours and customers would tease him tomorrow when they saw the boy’s new decorations, but they would look at him with more respect.

With a whispered word Severus removed the earlier silencing charm. Potter was going to scream and Severus found that he did not care who heard.

Tomorrow when Potter turned away from Severus in disgust, at least he would have had this and he would have what no-one else would ever have - he would be the one who took the virginity of the Hero-of-the-Wizarding-World. No matter what happened in Potter’s life, no matter who he went with the next time, Severus would always have been first.

Severus thought that he would probably never know what had spurred the boy to propose himself as he had, but he was not about to refuse. He was going to take what was offered and make sure that the boy never forgot tonight.

Potter whimpered again.

Finally, Severus slicked his fingers and propped the boy on yet more pillows, shoving them under his arse to give better access. Gently, carefully he inserted his index finger into the boy’s neat pucker and watched it disappear into the velvety channel, felt it being sucked in to the greedy entrance; he pushed further in, angling his finger to press against the boy’s prostate.

Potter gasped, and pushed back hungrily against Severus’ hand.

Severus withdrew his fingers and grinned to himself. “Turn over,” he said curtly. 

The boy’s green eyes were still fogged with lust, he was lost to sensations which he had so obviously never felt before, he was helpless with desire.

“Wha?”

Incoherent too.

Severus slapped the boy’s arse cheek, leaving behind a very satisfying red mark.

“Over.”

Potter rolled onto his stomach. “Please,” he whispered. “Please.”

“Please, what, brat?”

“Oh, please, Sir, please do something. Do that again.”

“Call me, Domine.” Severus commanded.

“Please?”

Severus bit the boy’s arse, harder this time, eliciting a delicious yelp.

“Please, Domine.”

Severus inserted another finger into the boy’s anus.

“Yesssss!” 

“More?” Severus whispered.

Potter squeaked as the tips of Severus’ fingers brushed his prostate again.

“More?” Severus whispered again.

The boy had wrapped himself around the pillow. He was hugging it close, his eyes tight shut. He was lost in sensation.

Severus pushed in further, just touching that special spot this time.

Potter opened his mouth in a silent scream. Severus half wished that his cock was between those lips, being sucked and licked. He would have to teach the boy what to do. The thought of Potter on his knees with Severus deep inside his throat, almost made him come there and then.

“Please.”

“What do you want now, brat? Do you want my cock?”

The boy whimpered, he bit his lip and nodded. He had thrown his neck back, exposing a long slim throat, marred only by a necklace of livid red bites which he wore like a collar.

The boy’s arse followed Severus’ fingers as he withdrew them and he whimpered once more.

“Such a greedy little whore!” Severus breathed into a pretty ear that he had decorated with teeth marks, narrow red lines incised in the lobe.

Severus poured oil all over his hand. He had prepared the boy well and waited long enough; it was time to prepare his own cock, and he did, covering it in the oil from his hand. It was rock hard and aching, he could wait no longer. He placed the blunt tip against the boy’s entrance.

“Now?” he awaited permission.

Potter nodded and Severus breached him.

“Oh, Gods!” The boy was so tight! Severus withdrew a little and then pushed in as deeply as he could.

Potter screamed.

Severus was buried deep inside him, held tight in that hot, slick channel, and he wasn’t sure that he could control himself. Having the boy totally in his power was overwhelming. Seeing himself piercing that delectable arse made his cock unbelievably even harder, made the tight little channel feel even tighter.

The boy squirmed; he was trying to catch his breath, gulping desperately, his eyes still squeezed shut.

This time his moans were pained ones. Severus thought that the boy’s arse must feel like it was on fire, he must feel like he was split in two. He had not been gentle, why would he be gentle with this boy? This is what Potter had asked for, to be fucked and that was exactly what Severus was going to do. 

He was going to take the boy roughly, he didn’t think that he could stop himself, he was going to pound into him. All those years when the boy had sneaked around and disobeyed him, supported in his arrogant ramblings by a crazed and meddling headmaster and his hero-worshipping friends. He was going to pay for them all tonight and he was going to love it, beg for more.

Potter was making tight little sounds now, as if he was trying to speak. Severus pulled out a little and the boy yelped but then he thrust back in again, burying himself almost to his balls. Again, again, again. The tight friction of the sweet little channel was unbelievably good. For a moment or two he lost control of himself, overwhelmed with pleasure, grunting as he pounded into the boy. Potter wriggled and squirmed so Severus held him still and thrust harder and harder desperate for completion. Potter clutched his pillow and began to sob.

“Please, hurts, oh please, Domine!”

Something in that cracked little voice reached inside of Severus. What was he doing? The boy was a virgin, had been a virgin. He was a generous partner, he had always been unselfish before, before this boy at least. He had meant to forget that this was James Potter’s son, to treat him like a lover, to treat him well. But he had forgotten, had wanted to forget; but now he had to bring Potter pleasure too. He stopped pounding into the boy and lifted himself up a little, pulled Potter into a position where he could reach around and grasp his cock. Then he angled himself better, it would hurt less if he manoeuvred himself to hit the boy’s prostate.

Earlier the boy had been rock hard, as hard as Severus himself was. Even now, when he was obviously hurting, he was still half hard; it would not take much to bring him off. His hand was still slick with oil and he used it to tease the boy’s balls, to stroke the long slim shaft of the boy’s penis.

He was still sobbing, but no-longer just in pain Severus thought. Now he sounded desperate with need, too. Severus knew that his cock was now brushing against that secret bump inside the boy with nearly every thrust.

Potter was keening.

“Come for me, boy,” Severus hissed. He could feel the veins standing out on his neck, hear his breathing grow rough and heavy as he continued to push and thrust into the tight channel of Potter’s arse.

Then Potter was screaming again, but this time he was screaming in orgasm and as the violent spasms raged through his body, they tightened his channel, finally tipping Severus over into orgasm as well. His shout of completion drowned out the boy’s fractured scream and Severus fell forward onto the slim body beneath him, hot and sweaty and totally replete. 

The boy groaned again and writhed, then he winced as Severus spent cock fell limply out of his arse.

Severus pushed himself off the boy. He looked completely ravished and totally gorgeous. His hair was wet from his exertions, his lips swollen where he had been biting them, his cheeks were flushed a dusky delicate pink. For a brief, fleeting second Severus felt a tendril of tenderness stir inside him, Potter looked so fragile, so young all of a sudden. He wanted to reach out and brush the dark fringe from the boy’s forehead, lean over and kiss him. 

But he steeled himself, he was not going to do that. Severus was determined not let himself weaken, no matter how strange and lonely this place became. He had not allowed anyone into his heart since Lily had staked a claim there long ago and he was not going to let anyone in now, especially not Harry-the-Golden-Boy-Potter.

“Go and clean up,” he said, firmly. The boy’s eyes grew wide.

“But…”

“Then go back to your own bed.”

Potter flushed.

“You are throwing me out? But you just fucked me!” he sounded hurt, indignant.

“Yes, I did. And very nice it was, too. I’ll see you in the morning, Potter.”

The boy was trembling but whether with anger or with the chill that must be settling over him, Severus wasn’t altogether sure. He scrambled off the bed in a rather ungainly fashion and clutched his tunic against himself. Severus almost smiled at that, it was far too late for such false modesty. Potter’s eyes were narrowed in impotent fury and his chin was vibrating, he seemed to be trying hard not to cry. As he left the room Severus could see trails of moisture trickling down the backs of his legs. For a fleeting second he felt tendrils of concern, the semen that was visible, even in the near darkness from Severus’ position on the bed, was tinged with blood. Had Severus been too rough with the boy? 

He dismissed that feeling ruthlessly. Harry Potter was not a boy, he was a man and he had just had sex like a man. It had been fierce and passionate, as it should be.

Severus cast a quick cleansing spell on himself and on the sheets and then he lay back against the pillows. Another thought flitted through his mind as he drifted off to sleep. Despite the young man’s demands Severus had only called him Harry twice. In his life, in his experiences with the boy’s father, Severus had not managed many victories over the Potter family, which made this one feel even more sweet. As he drifted off to sleep Severus could feel his lips curl into a satisfied smile.

 

**********

In the morning Potter did not come cheerfully into Severus’ room as he often did, clutching a tray with one of those delicious cinnamon buns that Modia made, still hot from the oven. The tray was there, the roll wrapped in linen, probably to keep it warm. There were some grapes and some crumbly, white goat’s cheese and a cup of steaming peppermint tea. So the boy must have been here recently, he just hadn’t stayed around. Severus sat up, he winced a little, he was sore. He felt another one of those fleeting pangs of guilt he seemed to be experiencing far too frequently lately when it came to Potter. If he was sore what must the boy be feeling today? Severus had been too rough with him, he knew that he had.

But that was the way that Severus was used to fucking, he liked it hard and raw. Potter had approached him, not the other way around, so the boy would just have to get out of his sulk. He had no reason to be feeling guilty he told himself firmly. He reached over and grabbed the warm roll, dribbled honey on it and began his breakfast.

He was later than usual getting to his workroom that morning because Potter hadn’t called him as he should have done. He had a lot to do but he also wanted to go to the baths today. He still felt sticky after the night before, despite the _Scourgify_ , so he decided to put his work off for now. He thought he would ask the boy if he wanted to go, too. A nice hot soak, and maybe a massage, would take away any residual stiffness; Severus would treat the boy to one. They could always get Rufus in for a short time to watch the shop. He would send Potter to fetch him now as he wanted to get to the baths early before they became crowded and the water became dirty. 

He went into the shop for the first time in a while to tell Potter of his plans.

Severus rarely ventured into this part of the building; in the shop he would have to deal with the public and he hated doing that. Because their home was made up of two premises which had been amalgamated, Severus seldom, if ever, had need to pass this way. He had his own entrance and the boy was around Severus often enough, fetching him food or collecting potions to sell, that if Severus ever needed anything from the shop, he simply told Potter when the boy came to him.

But Potter seemed to be avoiding him this morning.

The shop was flooded with sunlight and Severus noticed there seemed to be a lot of changes since he had been here last; he hadn’t really been looking yesterday when he had watched the conversation between Potter and his girlfriend. 

All the shelves were tidy now and filled with neatly labelled jars and chunky glass bottles. A large table had been placed in the middle of the room, scrubbed clean and containing a very simple pair of scales and a large wooden bowl. Herbs were hanging around the room drying nicely and several sacks of ingredients that Potter sold loosely were piled around the room, sacks of herbs that had been chopped or ground for use in cooking or pot-pouri to scent a room. It smelt wonderful. 

Potter was leaning over the bowl; he was mixing something, concentrating hard. He glanced up when Severus came in. 

Severus started in shock.

The boy looked terrible with deep, dark circles under his eyes (he couldn’t have slept much the night before) and the collar of blood bruises stood out stark against the biscuit-brown flesh of his throat. 

_“Good morning, Domine,”_ he said stiffly, back to his halting Latin again. 

Definitely sulking then.

“ _I am going to the baths, Potter. Would you like to come too?”_

Potter blushed and looked away.

_“No thanks…I..er…I have a lot to do today.”_

Severus harrumphed. The boy didn’t do very much of anything as far as Severus could see, and he said so. Potter glared at him and turned away with a stiff shrug and limped through into the back room. He would get over his huff eventually, Severus didn’t particularly care when, but the boy’s mood had absolved him of his guilt. He had known that Potter was a brat and he delighted in being proved right. So, looking forward to a nice hot soak and a massage, Severus left him to it.

The morning was warm already when Severus stepped outside, shrugging off the cool darkness of his home and the sulks of Potter. Marcus Iulius was just opening his shop and setting out his wares.

_“Good morning, Severus,”_ he said in his usual oily way. _“Sounds like you finally rode that sweet little slave of yours last night. Was he as tight as he looked? He certainly sounded pretty enough when he screamed.”_

_“Piss off, Marcus, you nasty little man,”_ Severus said and, feeling rather pleased with himself, he strode off in the direction of the baths.

 

**********

 

He was very impressed with the fact that it took him three days to finally loose his temper with the boy.

Potter had just served dinner, some sort of rabbit stew. It was absolutely delicious and Severus told Potter to give Modia his compliments on her exemplary cooking. Potter glared at him again.

As there was no one around, he spoke in English so at least the boy would understand what he was saying. He was sick of speaking slowly and clearly while the boy struggled to keep up, hampered as he was by his woefully limited intelligence.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Potter, do stop sulking! You wanted a shag, you got a shag. Why the fuck are you carrying on like a blushing virgin?”

Potter’s glare intensified. 

“Do you have to be such a bastard?”

“I am what I am, boy. If you wanted hearts and flowers you should have found someone else to fuck you.”

“I am trying to get on with you,” Potter said, through gritted teeth. “I know you don’t like me very much but do you always have to treat me like shit?” 

“I treat you in the way that you deserve, Potter. You are, and have always been, an obnoxious, spoiled brat. Do something to earn my respect and I will treat you differently.”

“What more do you want me to do? I am trying really hard here!” said Potter, his eyes flashing angrily.

“Stop whining! We have to work together if we are going to get ourselves home, and you skulking about in such a childlike way is not going to change things for the better.”

“I am not skulking!” Potter spat. “I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much, that’s all. I certainly didn’t expect any hearts or flowers from you, but I didn’t think that it would hurt so badly that I would hardly be able to walk afterwards. Then when you’d fucked me, you kicked me out of your bed like I was some sort of cheap tart!” With his eyes still flashing, his voice broke a little on the last word.

“If it hurt so much then you should have asked for a pain potion.” Severus felt yet one more tendril of guilt.

“Right and you would have produced one without any sarcastic little comments, would you? Because my welfare is so important to you that you couldn’t even use a cleaning charm on me. I had to wash myself in cold, dirty water.”

Severus winced.

“It wouldn’t have been the first time that I helped you Potter.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that you had enjoyed my humiliation either would it, Professor?”

Severus had to admit to himself that the boy was right. He had treated Potter badly that night. He had always been a generous lover; the way he looked, it was often the only thing he had going for him. Severus prided himself on the fact that no one had ever walked away from sex with him dissatisfied. Not until now, not until Potter!

“Are you still hurting?” 

The boy looked shocked that Severus had asked. He shrugged.

“A bit.”

“Come through to the lab with me and we’ll get you something.”

“But I’m not allowed in the lab,” Potter said.

“You are this time.” 

“What, just like I am allowed to speak English again? Because you say so?”

“Exactly!” Severus hissed. “And don’t you forget it! I am in charge here and if anyone suspects that I am not, you could well find yourself tied to one of those posts in the forum; see what that would do for your disobedience.”

Potter paled and he did not resist as Severus took the boy’s wrist in his hand and led him through to the room where he made potions. 

Severus had rarely been a fair man. He had enjoyed his grudges and his petty jealousies, but he felt he owed Potter this, even if he was immensely annoying and appallingly behaved. He reached down a pain salve and handed it to the boy. Their fingers brushed as the young man clutched it and Potter shivered. His eyes looked up into Severus’ and Severus felt a frisson of desire followed by a sharp pang of regret. He had blown it hadn’t he? The boy would never want to sleep with him again. 

Now that they were so close, in the better light of Severus’ Potions lab, he could see how truly dreadful the boy looked. The dark circles had not faded and the bites on his neck had turned a lived purple. There were more bruises that he’d hadn’t seen before, finger-marks stood out clearly on the boy’s arms. Had Severus done that too?

He vaguely remembered holding a squirming Potter down at one point. Maybe the bruises had happened then? He wondered if there were more marks, before deciding that there almost certainly were. Perhaps that was why the boy had been so reluctant to go to the baths the other day, because there was no mistaking that he had been well used.

Severus flushed. He reached down a salve that helped with bruising to go with the pain potion.

“Can you manage to apply them?” he asked 

Potter blushed a deep pink.

“I…er…no probably not.” He put the pot of salve back into Severus’ hand and turned around, hoisting his tunic to bare his body. Severus flushed again. The boy was decorated with bites and bruises, each one stood out lividly against the fair skin, he really had been far too brutal.

Slowly he applied the bruise salve and watched the bruises disappear beneath his touch. Even more slowly he worked his way lower and Potter just stood there sweetly and let him do as he wished.

Oh, Merlin!” Severus thought, as he rubbed liniment into a hand shaped bruise on the cheek of Potter’s bottom. The boy was allowing him to touch his arse, even after the somewhat disastrous session the other night. “Bend over.” Severus said, and Potter did as he was told, exposing the pucker of his entrance, a pucker that was red and sore, even after three days. Merlin, he had really hurt the boy and yet he was trusting Severus to succour him. Frowning, Severus didn’t understand why Potter was being so accommodating and he certainly wasn’t sure, at all, how he felt about it. 

He crouched down and took a generous handful of the thick, creamy healing salve. He had torn the boy, inside. He had been far too rough, vicious. Carefully he placed the blunt tip of his finger against the hot little hole and pushed in.

Potter whimpered.

“Shush, Harry.” Severus said, the name coming easily to his lips this time. The boy stiffened at the use of his name and continued to whimper as Severus covered the swollen flesh with the soothing salve.

“It wasn’t all bad, you know, the sex,” Potter said, finally when Severus had finished at last. Severus stilled. Touching the boy again like this was very arousing. He was so very beautiful, so very matched with Severus’ tastes. “Most of it was good, most of it was lovely,” Potter whispered. “It was, it was, yeah…it was good, it was awesome.”

Severus’ breath hitched. He finished applying the salve and removed his hand. He thought wryly that sometimes the young man’s use of English was not much more fluent than his Latin.

“Can you do the front yourself?” The boy nodded, he bent over and retrieved his tunic but he did not put it on. Instead he held it in front of him, not that it covered much. Severus could see a dusky nipple, pebbled in the cooling air, and deep scratches that were further evidence of the boy’s ravishment.

“Thank you, Domine,” Potter said.

Severus felt an unexpected wave of tenderness.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he told the boy. “After all, I caused the hurt.”

Potter stood. He gave a short bitter laugh. “Lots of people have hurt me, Sir, but not many ever tied to make things better again. I…I appreciate it.” He had to stand on tiptoe to do what he did next, but the quick kiss that the boy placed on Severus cheek felt like a slap, so unexpected was it.

“We could do it again if you want,” the boy said, seriously. 

“But I am not a whore, and I won’t be treated like one.”

Severus was speechless.

Potter must have taken his lack of reply for agreement.

“Next time, you don’t hurt me, or kick me out of bed, or call me Potter when you’re fucking me.”

“Um…all right.” Severus agreed, still somewhat stunned.

“Okay then, tomorrow night, and we will speak English again? Okay? It just makes me feel a bit better when we do, a bit closer to home.”

Severus nodded his assent.

“Your salves should have worked by then, shouldn’t they? The bruises are nearly gone already, I can feel them fading.” Then the boy gave him a cheeky smile. “Night, Domine.” 

He had turned and left the room before Severus could think of anything to say in reply.

 

**********


	3. chapter three

Chapter 3 - In which Severus gets told a thing or two and feels a bit sorry.

 

Chapter 3 

 

Severus applied the antiseptic salve three more times to the boy’s anus before he felt it was healed. He really had torn him quite badly and Severus felt somewhat shamed. He was determined that the boy would not be hurt this time, and by the next evening he had indeed healed.

Severus had made him bathe first. He wanted the boy nice and clean, especially his feet. The thought of nibbling those juicy little toes had been teasing him all day. He sat and finished his dinner whilst he watched the boy stand in a large earthenware bowl in the courtyard and wash himself. There was an olive tree in the centre of the garden and at this time of day the corner in which Potter stood bathing was dappled in shade. Severus was fascinated by the play of light against the boy’s skin, enthralled by the peculiar positions that he got himself into as he tried to wash. When Potter stood on one leg to start on his feet, Severus could stand it no-longer. He stood and, cheerfully abandoning his empty plate, he strode out of the room and over to the boy. 

Potter jumped. He had seemingly been so engrossed in what he was doing that he hadn’t noticed Severus watching him or coming up to him either. “Let me see how good a job you have done,” he said.

“I’ve been washing myself all my life, Pro…er Domine.”

“I don’t care about that. But if any bits of you are going in my mouth, I want them clean. Show me your feet.”

Potter’s eyes grew wide again, he was such an expressive young man. He looked at Severus as if he had gone mad, but he complied easily enough and lifted up those slim feet, each in turn for Severus to see. Severus licked his lips; the boy was totally delicious in his innate beauty, his unselfconscious nakedness and his easy submission.

Severus had to send a silent thank you to whoever created boarding schools – places which encouraged their inhabitants to shrug off their modesty, spending all of their formative years in close company as they did and, of course, the unquestioning obedience that was drummed into them from an early age. Not that Potter was usually very good at the obedience part, but here, in this strange place, he seemed willing to comply with most of Severus’ requests. 

 

He picked up the rather threadbare blanket that Potter was using as a towel and handed it to him.

“Dry yourself, but don’t get out of the water.”

Potter took the towel and did as he was asked, then he let out a surprised squeak as Severus swept the boy into his arms and carried him, unresisting, through to his bedroom.

He had already enlarged the bed just in case the boy wanted to stay afterwards, and Severus was sure that he would want to. He thought that half the hurt that the boy had felt was because Severus had kicked him out of bed the other night, not because of the bruises or the bites or the fact that he had fucked him so hard, and wasn’t that interesting? He wasn’t kicking the boy out tonight that was certain, if Potter chose to leave then that was fine, but Severus would not request it.

Severus had cursed the spell that had thrown them backwards through time on several occasions, but he would not have missed this evening for anything; he would never have had this opportunity in his own time. Whether this ever happened again or not, Severus was going to enjoy every moment of tonight and he was going to ensure that the boy enjoyed it too.

Potter displayed less nervousness on this occasion in many ways. He didn’t try to hide his cock, merely laying back and letting Severus look his fill, and he didn’t seem to mind the small nibbles that Severus could not resist giving that succulent flesh either. He tried to reciprocate, tasting Severus’ flesh in his turn. Severus licked and nibbled the boy’s nipples, careful this time not to leave bruises or break the skin. He placed a line of tiny kisses down his abdomen, along the furry happy trail and down towards the boy’s cock.

When Severus licked the tip, tasting the slightly bitter pre-come, Potter arched off the bed and moaned low and long. The boy was so supple. Severus had placed one neat foot in his lap loving the sensation as it curled and arched against his cock. Finally he could take it no longer he took the other little foot in his hand and brought it to his mouth, drying the still damp skin with his tongue and delicately nibbling the toes.

Potter threw his head back and moaned. Severus smirked to himself and sucked some of those pert little digits into his mouth. The foot that was trapped between Severus legs reacted too; it curled in reflex, brushing against Severus’ cock and Severus whimpered this time, too. The boy’s feet were as mobile and as supple as the rest of him. He could have a lot of fun with them and Potter did not seem to object to Severus’ foot fetish. He smiled to himself as he saw the feet bound tightly, unable to move or teased and tickled for hours. Perhaps he could teach the boy to bring him off with his feet alone?

He moaned again and bit down gently on another one of Potter’s toes.

He was determined to take more care of the boy on this occasion, telling himself, very firmly, that although this was Potter that he was fucking, it would be good to treat the boy well. That way it was more than likely they could keep on having sex. Severus could freely admit that he was going to enjoy having sex with Potter again, and often if the boy would permit it. The green eyed youth was everything that he liked in a partner. He was smaller than Severus, dark and slim, so slim that his stomach was almost concave when the boy lay back against the bed, so slim that his hip bones peaked sharply from his milky flesh. He was passionate, responsive and eager to learn and his eyes were stunning beyond belief. They were multifaceted like highly polished emeralds and they showed every emotion. The boy was so open it was no wonder that he had failed miserably at Occlumency. As a lover, he was just perfect in every way. Severus had been given a second chance and he was not going to turn such a gift away again.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he kissed and teased and caressed the boy, loving each tiny sound he forced Potter to make and how the boy leaned into every touch, every caress and begged very prettily for more. This time he laid the boy on his back to breach him, his sweet little arse raised on soft cushions that he had conjured earlier when he had enlarged the bed. Gently he inserted a finger again to prepare the boy and Potter flinched. Severus felt another pang of guilt. The boy had flinched because of what Severus had done, yet he made no move to stop him; instead he opened those green eyes and looked steadily at him. 

“I will not hurt you this time, Harry,” he promised. Potter gave him an almost imperceptible nod, closed those glorious eyes and lay back, leaving himself totally open to Severus.

When Severus breached the tight ring of muscle Potter arched into him, calling out plaintively. Somehow he had wrapped his legs around Severus waist, and, perhaps deciding that Severus was being too tentative, he impaled himself further on Severus’ cock. At last Severus was pounding into the boy again, but not so hard this time and on this occasion, he aimed at the boy’s prostate from the start, determined to make good his promise.

Potter’s begging intensified and Severus reached down to gently pull the boy’s engorged cock. The begging turned into a scream and the tight muscles in the boy’s channel started to contract, wresting Severus’ orgasm from him.

Severus pulled out carefully and sagged down beside the boy, he used a charm to clean them both. Potter shivered and Severus pulled him close, wrapping a blanket around them both.

“Wow! Wow!” the young man said sounding awed. “That was amazing, just so amazing. Thank you. Sir.” The green eyes were somnolent with pleasure, his lips curved in a self satisfied smile. “WOW!” 

He wrinkled his forehead as a thought occurred to him, Severus firmly decided that the boy did not look adorable and he did not want to kiss that sweet little wrinkle.

“What was that thing inside me? It was like flashes of lightning whenever you touched it?”

“That was your prostate,” Severus told him.

“What’s a prostrate?” Potter asked, still looking confused.

The boy was woefully ignorant. But whereas normally Severus would scoff at him for his lack of knowledge, this time he recognised it for the gift it was. His young lover was both innocent and eager, he responded beautifully to whatever Severus had shown him so far. Severus could mould him anyway he wished, make him into the perfect lover, and here in Rome that was fine. Boys were sold all the time as catamites. Potter was just doing what everyone expected him to do, serve his master in every way.

Severus smiled to himself again and began to explain what a prostate was.

He explained other things to Potter, too: things they might share together on future occassions, and describing things he could teach the boy to do. The young man listened silently, seemingly unshocked by any of Severus suggestions. He just lay there, one slim leg draped over Severus. Long, gentle fingers played with Severus’ nipple until, finally, exhaustion overtook him. He buried his head against Severus’ torso and promptly fell asleep.

Severus peered down at him. The tousled head was resting on Severus’ chest with the fringe dampened from his exertions, exposing his scar. The boy’s smooth cheeks were tinged with pink, his lips parted slightly and Severus told himself very firmly that he did not feel any tenderness towards Harry James Potter at all.

 

*********

 

They had been in Rome for six whole months and Severus felt that his research had come to a standstill. In many ways he felt strangely settled, there were no late night summonses to a crazed madman; no odious children to teach. His life was safe and surprisingly comfortable. In bed, things were going well between Potter and himself. The boy was apparently open to trying anything at least once; he did whatever Severus’ told him and was even beginning to make some suggestions of his own. He slept in Severus’ bed almost every night cuddling him, and Severus couldn’t help the fact that he quite liked it, even though he would crawl over broken glass before he would ever admit that out loud. Potter had proved to be passionate, obedient and enthusiastic; however, Severus was quick to remind himself that he could not stand the boy any better now than he could before.

The young man was lazy for a start. He never did anything useful as far as Severus could see, merely pootled about the shop for a bit every day and then toddled off to Modia’s home to get their food every evening.

But tonight, for a change, he would have to feed himself. Severus and Modia were going to the tavern to eat. Modia had her eye on the widower Thomas, who owned the tavern, as a future husband and she had asked Severus’ help in approaching him. Severus had grown quite fond of the feisty matron in the six months since their arrival. She had helped them when she hadn’t needed to and continued to help them since. Severus was under no illusions that many of the relative luxuries that they now enjoyed were thanks to the support and help of her youngest son and daughter-in-law. She sent them over often and he was sure they were responsible for the well-stocked store-room and shop and the apparently thriving garden. 

Over the past few months, Severus had learned a lot about Modia. She had once been a slave herself and all her children had been born in slavery. Her eldest son had been a gladiator and had been grievously injured in the arena, mauled by a savage wolf. He had gone on to work as a trainer himself. The next son worked with the sort of beasts that had so wounded her eldest child, and her third son was a scribe, owned by a Roman Senator who was a friend of her erstwhile master. Her greatest stroke of luck, she had once told Severus, had been when she had given birth to twin boys. 

Considered lucky in a city that was supposedly founded by twins, they had been the eventual reason for her family’s freedom. Her master, Gaius Iulius Nocens, had been so delighted by their birth that he had taken them into his personal service at age twelve, once they had both successfully survived the very real dangers of a Roman childhood. As a ‘thank you’ to Modia for giving him this prize, and with somewhat uncharacteristic generosity, he had freed Modia and her remaining two children.

Of course under Roman law the little family still owed their patron loyalty and payment from the thriving business that Modia had created; so, in reality, Gaius Iulius had actually gained a lot more than he might have lost by freeing them. Meanwhile the twins served as valets to Gaius and his son, the somewhat vapid and weak Devis. 

But Modia still had to care for an eleven-year-old daughter, Virginia, for whom she was building a dowry and a seventeen-year-old son, Rufus, whom she seemed to adore. Rufus would be forever silent. He had lost his tongue for cheeking Devis Iulius when he had been just ten and was not in the slightest bit simple, which is what Severus had suspected initially. He had been taught to read and write by a local scribe and currently did Modia’s accounts. The boy was apparently very able with numbers, at least according to Modia, and was proving popular amongst their neighbours for his accountancy skills.

Severus, of course, did their own accounts, which were quite remarkably healthy. They had far more money coming in than Severus had spent, excepting the initial purchase of their home. 

The father of Modia’s children had died several years before, just after earning his freedom, but with a loan from her master she had set up shop to sell Iulian wines and now had a thriving business. She was much admired for her financial acumen, her fine family and had more than paid her erstwhile master back, Severus was certain.

Sixteen-year-old Hermia had lost her first child, Modia’s first free-born grandchild, to disease just the year before, but the girl was apparently pregnant again, hence the official reason for tonight’s celebration. Severus promised himself that he would do everything he could to help ensure the child’s survival.

Severus left Potter in the shop as he departed for his dinner engagement. He found himself in a particularly bad mood for which, he decided, Potter was the cause, and yet he couldn’t figure why he was so annoyed with the boy. Especially after the rather spectacular oral sex session the young man had delivered earlier that day. He truly had proved to have a talented mouth and always seemed ready to oblige. 

But Severus could not help himself, he resented Potter. He supposed it was because the brat had always had everything handed to him easily; he had never known suffering as Modia’s family had. Severus didn’t count the possible neglect that Albus insisted the boy had endured at his relatives as suffering. He thought that if he had been the one to raise him, he would have done a lot more than made him do chores and forbid the occasional sweet treat.

So, it was with some considerable satisfaction that Severus delivered his collected cauldrons to the boy to have them washed. He had not bothered to bring them through for several days now and the accumulated, dried on potions would take a lot of work to remove. Potter would not be sloping off tonight; Severus thought grimly that the lazy young man would spend the evening scrubbing away instead.

“Get at least some of these clean for tomorrow,” he told a sullen boy, before leaving to meet Modia at the top of the alley. “I want to see them shining.”

Severus was particularly pleased with his cauldrons, he had found a blacksmith who had made them exactly to his specifications. It had been costly, but they seemed to be bringing in a decent income as Severus’ potions appeared to be selling well. His pots did need to be taken care of though, as he did not want to have to replace them, however reasonable they had been to purchase. He really should soak them daily, but then he had Potter to keep them clean and Severus thought that a bit of hard work could only do the boy good.

Modia greeted him with a smile. She was wearing what looked like a new stola in a pale yellow colour which rather suited her complexion and dark auburn hair. She actually giggled when Severus told her that he thought she looked nice and linked her arm in his. If Severus had not known that Modia had decided to develop a partnership with the tavern keeper, he might have thought her interested in him in view of her obvious attentions, but he supposed that she spent a lot of time working very hard and perhaps she just enjoyed a little flirting now and then.

The tavern was dark and somewhat gloomy but Thomas came scuttling over as soon as they walked in. The business community in the small network of alleys in which they had settled was tight-knit and close, Severus felt rather touched that they had included him so readily (even if they did take far too much interest in his sex life from time to time).

_“Evening Modia. Evening Severus.”_ Thomas said cheerfully. _“How are the two of you tonight?”_

_“We’re both fine,”_ Severus told him. _“I am escorting Modia because she has a proposal for you and she has asked me to speak on her behalf.”_

Thomas smiled, and his rather dull brown eyes, lit up, making him look rather joyful. Severus suspected that he already knew exactly what Modia’s proposal might be, but it would not be seemly for the matron to approach him herself. She did not have an older, free male relative to speak for her and whilst she could have asked Gaius Iuius to initiate discussions, Severus could not imagine the patrician Nocens coming into this low tavern for any reason. If Modia wanted anything from her patron she had to make the journey across Rome to his villa to wait in line behind all the other petitioners. She should not have to put up with such nonsense as she worked hard enough as it was, Severus thought protectively.

Severus had only seen Nocens once himself, at a distance, in the forum. Modia had pointed him out, wrapped in a pure white toga, the pale hair that distinguished the Iulian family had been unfashionably long. His son, an insipid copy of his father, was often seen in the alleyways, with whichever one of Modia’s twins that belonged to him in tow.

Thomas had pulled up a chair.

_“Apisus!”_ he shouted, calling the slave who worked in the tavern over to the table. _“APISUS!”_ The boy in question was being pinned to a wall by a drunken centurion who seemed determined to have a good grope of the slave’s genitals before he released him to do his master’s bidding. He was dishevelled and panting when he finally made it over to their table, only to receive a swift cuff for not coming quickly enough. _“Sorry, Domine,”_ the child said, breathlessly. _“Sorry.”_

_“Stop your whining, boy!”_ Thomas snarled. _“Just fetch a flagon of me best wine and some stew for us all.”_ He aimed a swift kick at the slave’s skinny backside, sending him sprawling to the ground as desperately hurried to do as he had been told.

_“You are too hard on that slave, Thomas,”_ Modia said firmly. Severus suspected that she might have a soft spot for the boy, with his pale skin and dark auburn hair, he could easily pass as one of her own children. He was gawky and skinny with ice blue eyes and a smattering of freckles on his nose. Severus thought he was probably about fourteen or so.

_“Nah, he needs a bit of bashing about to keep him working; he’s a lazy sod. Not like your Harry, Severus, now there’s a hard worker. He’s a pretty little thing, too, not like that scrawny lump! I wouldn’t mind Harry dancing on my cock!”_

Severus cringed. Personally, he couldn’t see what on earth Modia saw in the man, but rather suspected it had more to do with the tavern than any hidden charms that Thomas might have.

_“If you ever want to sell him, I’ll give you a good price. He would definitely go down well with my customers and I bet he keeps your bed lovely and warm at night.”_

_“Yes, well, he has his uses,”_ Severus said stiffly. Annoying as Potter might be, he did not feel comfortable discussing him as if he were some sort of commodity.

Returning to the table, Apisus was struggling to carry three plates and a small amphora. The boy was shaking so much that he managed to slop some of the thick gravy onto the table-top, suffering yet another smack for his clumsiness. 

Severus sneered, _“Do you have to keep hitting him, Thomas? You’ll give him brain damage.”_

_“Nobody would notice if he did get damaged,”_ Thomas grumbled. _“He’s crazy anyway, stupid slut! Now if I had your Harry, I wouldn’t have to smack him about and I’d make the customers pay a nice penny for his arse, alright.”_

_“Thank you, Thomas,”_ Severus said coolly, _“but as I have already pointed out, Harry’s arse is not for sale; it belongs to me.”_

Thomas grumbled a little but soon cheered up when Modia, obviously satisfied with Severus’ introduction, began discussing her suggestions for a possible marriage between them.

Later, after several glasses of wine, and a little giddy with the success of negotiations, Modia became quite giggly as Thomas headed off to deal with his customers. 

Poor Apisus was being dragged off into a back room by a large man who had grabbed his arm roughly and was shaking him like a recalcitrant puppy. 

_“That’ll stop,”_ Modia said, nodding her head in the boy’s direction. _“I don’t hold with that either. He is really cruel to that boy. I don’t know if I’ll keep him on when I move in, but I won’t let him be treated like that. I suppose we’ll need someone to help me wait on tables. I’d rather buy a good cook, though, ‘cause I don’t think that stew was very good.”_ She looked at Severus quite keenly then. _“I don’t suppose you would sell your Harry to me; would you, Severus?”_

Severus gave her a hard stare. _“What is it this evening, Modia? Why are you after Harry? It is not as if he is of much use to anyone but me, and you are a tremendous cook!”_

Modia shook her head. _“Do you know something, Severus? I don’t think that you are much better with Harry than Thomas is with his boy.”_

_“I beg your pardon?”_ Severus huffed. He felt rather insulted at the comparison, especially having watched the inn keeper bash his poor slave around all evening and whore him out to customers. 

_“That young man works so hard for you!”_ Modia said sharply. _“He is up well before first hour, firing up the oven, works hard all day, cooks for you, cleans for you; he has made that place you bought into a right nice little home.”_

_“Potter cooks?”_ Severus asked, astonished. _“But I thought you were the one who did that?”_

His companion peered quite hard at Severus, leaving him feeling like he should squirm under her disapproving gaze. _“You really don’t know, do you? I don’t cook well, Severus. Don’t you remember the food from your first few days with us? It is your Harry that cooks for us all. He brings our dinner over every night.”_

Severus didn’t know what to say to that; he couldn’t quite believe what Modia was saying. He had rarely eaten as well in his life as he did here, even at Hogwarts, and Potter had been the one making all those wonderful meals?

_“But you have done so much for us,”_ he finally said.

_“No, we haven’t, Severus. Rufus spares maybe an hour or so now and then, Hermia less than that. It’s Harry as does all the work. That’s why people are interested in him, that and the fact that he is so pretty. It doesn’t often go together, you know. Slaves as attractive as Harry get showered with presents and end up as some senator’s plaything. They sure as Vesta, don’t work as hard as he does, and with no complaints, either._

_“If Thomas owned him, he’d at least give him some pennies now and then so he could treat himself. You’ve never bought him anything have you? It is shameful the way you dress him in rags like some street child.”_

Severus had to admit that he hadn’t actually bought the boy anything – was he dressed in rags?

_“And you are forever shouting at him in that heathen language of yours. ‘Fetch this Pota’, ‘get that, Pota’. It means slave doesn’t it? I think that tonight is the first time that I have ever even heard you call him Harry._

_“He deserves to hear his name, Severus, and he has earned the odd reward – a decent tunic for a start, one that actually fits him. That’s why you keep getting offers for him, ‘cause people think you don’t want him. If you do want to keep him then you shouldn’t treat him the way you do. _

_“I know, believe me, I know what it is to be like Harry. I have been a slave and there are lots of ways of wearing someone down and you’re doing just that to the poor lad. Mark my words, Severus, if you continue as you are, you will come to regret it. You could go to a hundred markets and buy any number of slaves and you wouldn’t get another Harry. Harry doesn’t lie or steal, he is friendly and respectful, not mention hardworking and very, very decorative; and that is why everyone wants him. He is a good boy and he deserves to be looked after.”_

_“I do look after him!”_ Severus exclaimed. _“And I would never hurt him.”_

_“Oh, no?”_ Modia snorted indignantly. _“I have often seen that boy covered in bruises or limping as he goes to market. You have no right to complain about Thomas, Severus, when at least he has some valid reasons for treating Apisus the way he does. The boy is not very bright to begin with and on top of that he is forever trying to hide or get out of work; however, you can’t say anything like that about your Harry._

_“I am really fond of you, Severus, I think you are a very fine man and a good apothecary. But even if the wine hadn’t loosened my tongue tonight, I would have said something to you soon, anyway. It is too close to us, you see, we have been slaves ourselves and somehow managed to be freed, but there is always the chance we might have to sell ourselves or our children again some day. Decent people treat their slaves well. It’s Patricians who don’t, but we aren’t Patrician, Severus; you treat that boy badly and you should be ashamed. And don’t you worry about Apisus, I’ll take care of the way Thomas treats his boy, as well, just as soon as I marry him.”_ She ended her diatribe at Severus with a smug smile that promised no good for the hapless Thomas.

Severus, his mind in a whirl, had nothing to say in response. He was sure that Modia would sort Thomas out, she had certainly sorted him out. Whilst Severus was fond of Modia, he had felt superior to her. She had little education, she could barely read, had no magic whatsoever, and yet tonight she had made Severus feel very humble and unworthy.

Had he been that wrong about Potter? 

They stayed for several more hours whilst Thomas and Modia discussed future plans and then slowly they made their way back home. Modia didn’t mention the boy again, she was full of her plans instead. But Severus could not forget her words, they settled deep inside him, cold and unforgiving and wouldn’t quite leave him alone.

Potter had left several candles burning so Severus could easily find his way to bed, not that he really needed the light as there was a very bright moon. In any case, Severus wasn’t ready to sleep yet, he had much to think about. 

Ever since they had arrived Severus had assumed that Potter did very little. Every night he had watched the young man traipse around the corner with a capacious terracotta pot, assuming that he was fetching food from Modia’s. Was it the other way around? Were those delicious cinnamon buns that Severus loved for breakfast each day made by the boy and not by Modia as he had assumed?

In the moonlight, Severus wandered around the collection of rooms that they had been living in for the past six months. He thought of when they had first come here, how dirty it had been, how shabby. The peristyle courtyard which had been piled with rubble and rubbish was now a lush garden, full of herbs and twined with honeysuckle, shaded in the daytime by the olive tree. It had obviously been a garden before, because some of the plants were too old to have been planted by Potter, but had it been the boy who cleared away the debris and rescued the plants? Surely not?

It wasn’t only the shop that had been cleared and sorted, every room, every part of their little dwelling was the same, clean, tidy, ordered. Was Potter responsible for it all?

The young man was asleep. Severus hadn’t thought much about where he slept on the nights that he wasn’t in Severus’ bed, but now he knew. It was an alcove in the smallest back room, on an old wooden pallet had been covered with a mattress that seemed to be made of straw. All that was visible of the boy, who was snuggled under his threadbare blanket, was a wild patch of hair and one delectable foot.

Severus leaned against the door jamb and watched him sleep for a while. He whimpered and cried softly, muttering inaudible pleas, just like the time that he had been concussed and had remained unconscious for several days. He never did that when he slept with Severus. Was it possible he had frequent bad dreams and was that one of the reasons he liked to sleep in Severus’ bed?

Potter’s ‘bedroom’ seemed to be some kind of storage facility. He could see some clean sheets, piles of empty baskets and a stack of terracotta bowls. Apart from the sleeping boy, the small room was empty of anything that could belong to Potter excepting two folded tunics and a pair of rather battered sandals, which had a torn strap and were full of holes. Severus remembered he still had the boy’s rucksack hidden and it contained all his personal possessions; and, as Modia had so blatantly pointed out, he had not given Potter any money with which to purchase more.

He slowly made his way back to his own room. How different it was in there. Severus had enlarged the bed and had sheets and a quilt made. He had several pairs of sandals and belts and various other bits of paraphernalia. He had justified his purchases by pointing out to himself that he had worked hard and made enough money to earn a little comfort, not to mention that as a citizen and shop owner he had a certain status to maintain; however, the money had been Potter’s initially. The coins that the boy had stuffed away in his battered rucksack were what had bought them this relatively comfortable existence, and Severus had forgotten that.

But despite what Modia had told him, Severus still could not believe that Potter worked so hard, surely he had help? Surely he couldn’t have been that wrong? 

The rucksack was still in the carved wooden chest that Severus kept his private things in. Potter’s cloak was in there, if he used it he would know for certain what the boy was doing. Although deep down, he suspected he had known as soon as Modia had spoken, that he had been treating the boy shamefully. He ran his fingers over the chest. He had found it at the market one day, not long after they had arrived. Potter had carried it back for him and Severus had locked the chest with a spell, insuring the boy could not open it as he had no wand.

Severus felt chilled. Harry Potter had not had access to his wand in all the time that they had been here. He hadn’t trusted the boy, it was true, but he had denied him his magic. Taking away someone’s magic was the worst thing that anyone could do to a wizard and yet had done it to Potter without even a second thought.

Severus felt worse and worse.

He opened the trunk and rummaged around until he found the wands, then he lay them side by side on the bed and beside them he placed the boy’s invisibility cloak and the book that he had put away all those months ago and promptly forgotten. He had never even looked inside it.

Slowly he lifted the cover and then he gasped. He hadn’t known what to expect when he opened the book, but it certainly hadn’t been this. It was a photograph album and on the first page, cradling a small, giggling, black-haired baby, was Lily Potter.

Severus looked at the book for what seemed like hours, picture after picture showing Lily and James and their friends. One or two showed Harry with his parents, so few in a book so full of pictures. 

Examining the pictures of a young James Potter, Severus felt more and more chilled as he realised at last, comparing Harry with his father, that it was never really the boy that he had hated. He had been hating a phantom, a ghost, not much older than Harry was now. The face that had haunted him wasn’t Harry’s. There was undoubtedly a superficial resemblance right enough, but that was all.

 

Harry was smaller than James for a start. Much smaller. His features were actually much more like Lily’s. It was the dark hair and the glasses that really made them look alike, but Harry hadn’t worn glasses for months and James’ hair was artfully tousled. There was definitely nothing artful about Harry. A slight smile passed over Serverus’ face at the thought, but in the next instance it vanished to be replaced with a grimace of pain. Oh, Circe! What had he done?

***************

Severus usually slept with his door shut, but tonight he had left it open. He heard a noise and cracked an eye noticing the sun had risen yet. Early as it was, someone was moving about. Severus popped the wands and the album back in the chest and threw on the invisibility cloak. It shimmered around him like liquid silver. Slowly he stood, the fabric felt silky against his skin. Severus had been able to _Disillusion_ himself for a good many years, but there was something about the illicit thrill of wearing James Potter’s invisibility cloak that sent a shiver down his spine.

He was using it to spy on James Potter’s son.

He felt another wave of guilt and had to firmly tamp it down again. He had to know whether Modia was right, whether Potter really had done all this, whether Potter really was working as hard as she said. He had to know the truth, for once and for all. 

It was quite chilly this early, before the sun was up. The boy was pouring some water into the bowl that he kept for washing. He had the blanket that he slept in wrapped around him. Slowly he dropped it so that it pooled around his ankles on the paving and he knelt over the bowl.

Severus gasped. He looked so beautiful, so ethereal in the half light that Severus almost couldn’t breathe. He wanted to go over to the boy and take him in his arms and shower him with kisses. He didn’t want to pretend to himself anymore that he didn’t care; he had done far too much of that. Last night had been a night of revelations and he had a horrible suspicion that he had been wrong about Potter all along. He had also been kidding himself, hiding from his real feelings; somewhere in the last few weeks he had, unbelievably and truly, fallen in love with a seventeen-year-old boy. He had fallen in love with Harry.

The boy finished washing, wrapped himself in his blanket and padded back to the alcove to put on one of his tattered tunics. Modia was right, he should have bought Harry some nicer clothing or, better yet, ensured that Harry had the money to buy some things for himself.

Severus watched the boy move through to the shop and start to clean out the oven portion of a range-like-arrangement that Severus hadn’t even realised was there. The young man was humming softly to himself as he worked. He was so practiced, he must have done it often. Severus had forgotten that this shop had been a bakery, somehow and at some point Harry had discovered how to work the oven.

He watched the boy finish his task and then light a fire to heat the oven. He uncovered a bowl that seemed to contain some dough and after a short time placed it in the oven to heat. Just then a small girl came in, carrying a basket covered with a cloth as Harry’s bowl had been.

_“Good morning, Harry,”_ she said, handing the boy her burden along with a small metal pail. _“Mater sent these fish, for your dominus.”_ She gave the pail to Harry, who thanked her and decanted the fish, all the while talking to the child about her mother, who it seemed had been ill, and her family which appeared to have an inordinate amount of children in it. 

For the next hour the shop was filled by a steady stream of people carrying dough in various shapes and sizes, along with a procession of little gifts ‘for your dominus’. Considering that Severus had never seen any of these people before, he knew that the gifts were actually for Harry, not that anyone could give someone else’s slave a gift, it just wasn’t done.

But it explained some of the luxuries that Severus had enjoyed over the last few weeks, the nice ripe figs a week ago, the freshly pressed olive oil, the flagon of Falerian wine. These customers were bartering what they could afford so that Harry would bake their bread. As people came and went, Harry sold them pots of salve and a variety of potions, hardly a person left without clutching a small jar or bottle. It was no wonder that their little business was thriving.

After a time, Harry started taking the baked goods out of the oven and placing them on the table to cool, after which he wrapped them in the various cloths in which they had arrived. Severus’ mouth started watering when his favourite cinnamon rolls appeared. Harry wrapped them in a clean cloth which he took from a basket beneath the table, then laid them out on a wooden tray and headed towards Severus’ room. The shop was full of people so Severus had to be really careful as he nipped past so that he could get to his bedroom before Harry did.

But the boy was busy so he simply left the tray at the doorway and went straight back to his customers. 

Severus was stunned. He had a lot to think about as he sat and ate his breakfast. He had been wrong about the boy, so very wrong. Was this the Gryffindor prince that he had thought the boy to be? Severus had watched him work hard for nearly two hours. It had been just past the tenth hour of the night, according to the water-clock in the courtyard, when the boy had woken. From the familiarity of the stream of customers he must do it every day and had been for some time. Potter had never complained about hard work, never even mentioned how he had organised everything in their domicile, or even that he’d set up a bakery all on his own. These things just didn’t fit with the mental picture Severus had always had of the Gryffindor Golden Boy; nothing seemed to make sense anymore, at least as far as Harry Potter was concerned.

After he had eaten, Severus took his dishes through to the shop for Harry to wash, thinking about how he never normally did this, leaving things instead for the boy to retrieve himself.

_“I am going out, Harry,”_ Severus said. _“I’ll probably be out all day.”_

The boy looked at him, green eyes widening, expressive as always. Severus wondered if the young man’s apparent surprise had anything to do with the fact that this was the first time he had used the boy’s first name, unbidden and not while they were in bed. He silently vowed never to call Harry by his last name ever again. 

_“Um…all right, Domine.”_ Then with a frown, _“Is anything wrong?”_

_“No, no. I’m fine. I’ll be back later.”_ He turned around to walk out of the shop.

_“Do you want me to make you some lunch?”_ Harry called after his retreating figure.

Feeling too ashamed to speak, Severus just shook his head and walked away. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the boy.

As he left his rooms Severus scowled at Marcus, who was watching him as usual, and went to brood in private in a tiny back alley he had recently discovered hidden amongst the many intertwining streets behind his shop. It boasted a large wooden bench under a spreading olive three. He desperately tried to will away the guilty ache inside him, but was making little headway.

No one had ever loved Severus, not since he was a young boy, before his mother became truly ill, before she had been worn down by the demands of Severus’ drunken boorish father.

All his life, not that he’d ever admit it to any creature on earth, living or dead, he had wanted someone to care for him, look after him, but it had never happened, not until now. Severus had no idea how Harry felt about him, but in the last few months he had obviously tried really hard to look after him, providing all the little touches that had made their premises a home. Severus had once promised himself that if he ever found someone he could truly care for, he would never treat them as his father had treated his mother, yet that is exactly what he had done to Harry.

The boy was not really his slave, that was just a charade and yet he had treated him as if that was what he was, a drudge and a sex toy. When he had watched Harry wash earlier, when he had watched him interact with their customers, not even letting the fact that his Latin was still far from fluid stop him, Severus had wanted to kiss him and that made him think of all the times that he had not kissed him when he could have done so. Harry had sucked his cock, he had pounded the boy into the mattress on numerous occasions, he had even let Harry curl around him after sex. But he had never reciprocated or held him close and he had never once kissed him.

For the last few months he had been desperately denying how he felt and the only one that had suffered was a boy whom he owed far too much to already. 

 

Finally, Severus stood up again and, making sure that he was unobserved, he draped the cloak around him and headed back to the shop. He really felt he should speak to the boy, explaining his epiphany and begging Harry’s understanding and forgiveness. But he wasn’t ready yet, there would be too many people around during the day and Severus was not even sure that he could articulate his feelings just yet. Harry was just leaving as Severus arrived, so he followed him.

He had to be really careful not to be jostled, manoeuvring through a crowd of people in an invisibility cloak in his pursuit of Harry was very tricky indeed. Luckily Harry did not seem to be moving very fast. The boy managed to side-step Marcus quite easily when the odious man tried to grope him. Severus determined that when they got back from wherever they were going he would break the man’s fingers as he had once promised. Harry didn’t seem bothered, however, he treated it like it was a normal occurrence – and perhaps it was. Scowling, Severus wondered whether he should start on Marcus’ thumbs and work his way back, or start with the pinkies; he supposed that which ever was most painful would be the best option.

Harry had stopped to talk to the slave from the tavern whose name Severus could not remember right then, but the redhead seemed to have been crying and Harry reached up and wiped away a tear from the freckled face with the back of his hand. He talked to the slave for a moment or two and then gave him a pot of salve. The redheaded slave shook his head, but Harry nodded firmly, dipped his fingers into the pot and spread a little on the dark bruise that marred the other boy’s cheek. 

Just the day before, Severus thought uncomfortably, he would have been furious that the young man was giving away potions, but having witnessed the amount of sales Harry had made that very morning, Severus thought the boy had earned a few free potions. He had earned a lot of things that he didn’t have. In the daylight, seeing Harry in amongst all these other people he realised how shabby the boy looked, even next to Thomas’s slave. His tunic was barely more than a rag, and his feet were bare. Severus suddenly realised that he hadn’t seen the boy wearing shoes for a while, maybe he didn’t have any others? Maybe the only shoes he had were those battered sandals. Why on earth had he never asked? Then Severus realised that the boy had never actually asked him for anything in all the time they’d been here.

He thought back to Hogwarts. The young man had always looked shabby then too, hadn’t he, compared to his classmates? Did he just not care how he looked?

By now Harry had moved on. The boy from the tavern was staring after him, a look of total hero worship on his face; he obviously thought that Harry was wonderful.

Several other people seemed to think he was quite wonderful too. He was stopped time after time and more potions came out of the large wicker basket he was carrying, only now they were exchanged for coins. Severus wanted to laugh, the boy had created some sort of mobile potions business. Harry had sold at least fifteen different pots of salve and bottles of potions before he even reached the market-place. 

Severus watched the boy move around the stalls, talking to stall holders, haggling for a bottle of Severus’ favourite wine, a variety that Modia did not sell. He bought some small pots to replace the ones he had sold that day containing potions, after which he began buying fruit and vegetables and spices. After about an hour he turned for home, his basket weighed down with his purchases. He had yet to rest, or even sit down, and it was still only the third hour of the morning.

By the time Harry returned to the shop he had walked at least a mile and a half in the blazing sunshine carrying a heavy basket. Rufus was in the shop just completing a sale when Harry got back. Harry thanked him, gave him some cinnamon buns and spent the next several hours serving customers. He also kept busy tidying up. He made Severus’ bed and Severus was guiltily grateful that he had thought to put the wands and the photograph album back in the chest. Harry swept up with a rather tatty broom and then started chopping vegetables and cooking the fish the little girl had given him earlier. He added some spices and browned it in a shallow pan. It smelt wonderful.

Well, Severus thought wryly, that certainly answered the question about whether it was Harry or Modia who cooked all those delicious meals. The boy seemed to have considerable skill. He chopped the vegetables with speed and accuracy and added various different ingredients to the meal until Severus’ mouth watered with hunger. All at once Severus felt a frisson of concern run up his spine. Where had the boy learned to cook? When had he learned to cook? There was no doubting that Harry had skill, considerable skill, in fact. Another perplexing thought struck the Potions Master. If he could cook as well as he obviously did, then he should have been a natural at Potions. But had he, Severus Snape, youngest and most brilliant potions master Hogwarts had ever had, ever once, given Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, son of the odious James Potter, a fucking chance?

Severus groaned, once again thinking of how completely mistaken he had been about this young man. Far from sitting about doing nothing at all the boy had not stopped working since before dawn. Several times Severus almost managed to take off the cloak and speak to him, but each time someone came in and they stayed for ages. Finally, it was the middle of the day, the time when the late August sunshine was at its hottest and many people closed their shops for a midday rest. Severus actually had his hand on the hem of the cloak and was ready to remove it when Hermia came in, closely followed by Rufus.

Severus almost cursed.

_“Hello, Harry,”_ Hermia said. _“We’ve come to make you take a rest.”_

Harry smiled, _“I can’t Hermia, I have too much to do, my dominus…”_

But Severus didn’t get to hear what Harry might be planning to do for him because Hermia interrupted him.

_“Mater said that you were to have a rest this afternoon, and your dominus isn’t even here.”_

Harry looked torn, he bit his lip. Severus wanted to send Hermia and Rufus away but he held back, wanting to see what Harry would do.

_“Please Harry? Mater has given us some time off. We don’t have to be back until eighth hour; let’s go and have something to eat?”_

Still Harry hesitated.

_“Harry!”_ Hermia pouted. Severus felt like slapping her, but Harry crumbled.

_“All right,”_ he said, _“but just for half an hour.”_

Harry took down some bread, some hard biscuits and some olive oil and led his friends through to the garden. He picked some olives from the tree and some cherries from another tree that was trained in a fan shape against the south facing wall. Hermia produced some plums and some crumbly cheese and the three of them sat on a pile of cushions that Harry fetched from the shelves in the store-room.

Severus sat in the shade on an old stone bench, twined about with honeysuckle and ivy, and watched the young people talking and laughing softly together in the stillness of the afternoon. They had obviously become good friends sometime in the last few months and Harry seemed to relax in their company. Hermia talked and giggled almost non-stop and even Rufus joined in with strange little hand-signals that Harry and Hermia had no problems understanding. He felt like a voyeur intruding on the intimacy of such closeness and yet, while he still didn’t quite dare to reveal himself, he found that he couldn’t quite seem to look away. He was drawn, compelled almost, to watch the boy. He couldn’t get enough of him and all the while he planned for later on, when he would reveal himself to Harry and tell his young lover what he had discovered and how he truly felt now.


	4. chapter four

Chapter 4 - in which Severus tries to make amends 

 

Chapter 4 

 

Severus watched them eat and murmur quietly to each other for some while. He didn’t feel particularly hungry himself, he just wanted to get Harry all on his own so that they could talk at last.

But the boy was still engrossed with his friends.

_“How are you feeling now, Hermia?”_ Harry said, solicitously. The girl leaned back on the pile of cushions. 

_“I still feel sick in the mornings,”_ Hermia replied, _“and I get very tired, but Mater says it will pass soon, as it did before. In the meantime, Rufus has been really helpful.”_ She smiled up at the redheaded boy and he blushed to the very tips of his ears.

_“Mater said that she and your dominus went to see Thomas at the tavern last night. He made her an offer and it looks certain that they will marry.”_

_“Is she happy about that?”_ Harry sounded astonished.

_“Of course! She has wanted to be involved in the tavern for ages. It means that Rufus and I can run the wine shop. It’ll give us more space when the baby comes.”_

For a moment it was as if a shadow crossed Hermia’s heart-shaped face. _“I would not like to lose another child.”_

Harry reached over and took her hand. _“My dominus says that he will help you, Hermia. He is a very clever man. If your baby gets ill this time then he’ll be there to help make things better.”_

Severus remembered saying that, he had said it one day to Modia, never thinking that the girl might wish to hear such reassurances as well. Harry must have overheard him.

Tears danced in the girl’s eyes and Rufus reached over and took her hand. _“Modius would have been nearly two-years-old, if he had lived.”_

Harry hugged her.

They stayed like that for a moment, these three children. Harry held Hermia closely and Rufus held her hand, and sorted of patted at her somewhat ineffectually, looking a little lost, and very young himself.

Eventually Hermia pushed them both away and sat back on her heels, looking around her at the lush growth.

_“The courtyard is lovely, Harry,”_ the girl said, deftly changing the subject and refusing to meet his eyes. Harry smiled and proceeded to tell her about the way he had cleared the rubble and how he had found plants to fill it and how long it had taken him to rediscover the abandoned garden beneath the weeds.

The three young people sat talking for a short while longer and then Harry began to clear up the dishes.

_“Please stay here for as long as you like,”_ Harry said as he stood up. _“but I have to get back to work.”_

Severus was astonished, the boy had earned a rest he had only stopped working for a very short time. What could he possibly have left to do? The shop and living quarters had been cleaned, he had made enough bread for the day, the evening meal was prepared, he had been to the market, and there were not likely to be any customers for another hour at least.

Fortunately he didn’t have long to wonder what Harry was about to get to work on because Hermia asked his question for him.

Harry lifted the tray of dirty dishes and smiled at his friend again.

_“My dominus told me to get his cauldrons clean,”_ Harry said. _“They were really filthy. I scrubbed for hours last night, but then I had to soak them. I got some of them clean enough, but I am nowhere near finished yet. The shop will probably be busy again later so I have to do them now.”_

Severus felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over him. Harry should be resting and spending time with his friends. He had seen how hard the boy had worked all day, but still he couldn’t rest. Not because he had left chores undone, or lounged around; no, he couldn’t take much deserved time for himself because he had to clean the cauldrons that Severus had deliberately, spitefully left for him to clean.

He wanted to call the boy back, tell him to stay and relax for a while longer, but Hermia and Rufus were still there and he could not give himself away, not while the others were here. A cold, hard lump of guilt had settled in Severus’ stomach. It had been growing all day, but now it solidified and grew colder.

What had he done to the boy? He had turned the Hero-of-the Wizarding-world into a house-elf.

_“Your dominus won’t mind,”_ Hermia told him firmly. _“He must know how hard you work.”_

Harry’s smile was sweetly sad and Severus steeled himself for Harry’s next words. The ones that revealed how poorly he was treated, how Severus would sneer at him, belittle him for his supposed laziness. But they never came, instead Harry told her that the cauldrons were important and that his dominus needed them. Severus was struck by such loyalty; no one had ever protected him like that before. Not without wanting something in return.

_“You love him don’t you, Harry?”_ Hermia whispered. Severus held his breath.

Harry nodded, just once, hardly perceptible if you were not looking for it, but there nevertheless.

“ _You are lucky, I think,_ she said softly, “ _to care so much for the man who owns you. Not all slaves are so lucky._

_“I was just a little girl when my pater was freed,”_ she continued. _“He was a clerk, for a senator, the one that Rufus’ brother now belongs to. My father was freed because he uncovered a fraud. Hermenicus was a generous dominus and he freed me and my mater, too. But it was already too late for my brother. He had been sold. I haven’t seen him since, I don’t know what happened to him. But in my memory he looks a bit like you. I hope he is as happy as you are, Harry.”_ She gave him a gentle hug then and Harry, leaned into her, but he couldn’t hug her back as his arms were full of dirty dishes, _“Just enjoy your rest, all right?”_ he told her firmly, his voice sounding a little thick with emotion and then he turned and walked back indoors.

Severus watched him go, heading back inside to do a job that he really shouldn’t have to be doing, and he couldn’t help but think that perhaps Harry wasn’t particularly lucky at all.

 

**********

 

As Severus watched the slim, retreating figure of the boy disappear from the warm afternoon sunshine to the gloom of the indoors, he could not quite believe what Hermia had said. He ran it over in his mind, examining it, like it was some sort of Potions problem. She thought Harry was happy? Severus had observed him all day and he could not see how anyone could possibly be happy in the circumstances that the boy had been living in. Stranger still, Harry thought that he loved Severus, was he totally deluded? He could not understand it at all.

Slowly, desperate to uncover the enigma that was Harry Potter, he followed the boy back into the building and through to the back room which served as a sort of scullery as well as Harry’s bedroom.

It seemed to Severus that the little room was very hot and stuffy. Severus’ lab had large windows with slatted shutters so that even in the hottest part of the day any breezes coming from outside would help cool the room. Severus usually worked late into the evening when it was cooler. His workshop had a padded bed in one corner on which he often dozed for an hour or so at this time of day. But in this part of the building, one of the few in the neighbourhood that was made of stone, the midday and afternoon heat built up quickly; it was stuffy and overpowering. Severus watched Harry remove his tunic, fold it and put it aside, presumably to both keep it clean and allow himself to be as cool as possible, Severus didn’t like to think of how many times the boy had done this before, in order to become so practiced at it.

Now he was simply dressed in his breechcloth, and Severus could see the firm, young muscles under the taut, tanned skin. Harry picked up one of the clean cauldrons and took it back outside to the well. When he returned he was staggering a little under the weight of the full vessel, but he managed to carry it through to the range and placed it in the fire to heat. He must be warming water to help him in his task, Severus thought. He watched, silently as Harry got down on his knees beside one of the grimy cauldrons. Then the boy poured some oil and some salt into a wooden bowl, placed a little on a cloth and started to scrub at the inside of one of the cauldrons. 

Three of them were clean already. They gleamed dully in the dim light of the scullery but two more were still absolutely filthy and in desperate need of scrubbing.

Harry must have worked for hours already to clean as much as he had, especially with such a simple scouring agent. Severus had felt so gleeful when he had thought of the boy scrubbing away at them, but right at this moment he felt only a deep sense of shame. He could easily have made the boy a potion to clean the cauldrons, and what was more, he could have ensured that they had not become quite as dirty as they were in the first place. Better yet, he could simply have cleaned them himself and saved Harry having to do them at all.

“Oh Harry!” he whispered, too quietly he thought, for the boy to hear. 

Once again he reached up to remove the cloak, ready to tell the young man to stop, and once again his action was interrupted by the entrance of Hermia.

_“Harry! Rufus is asleep, the great lump!”_ This was said with deep affection, showing the lie to her words. _“So I have come to give you a hand.”_

_“Hermia, you should be resting!”_

Hermia gave him a pointed look. _“So should you, but you aren’t. Now find me an apron, I am not stripping down to my smalls.”_

Harry grinned broadly and it seemed like the sun had just come out and lit up the room. For a second he looked like the young boy that Severus remembered from Hogwarts; sometimes, when he had been with his friends or playing Quidditch, Harry’s face had brightened with this same expression. Severus hadn’t realised he had observed the young man that closely in the past, but he did know he hadn’t seen Harry smile like this in all the time they had been here. Even those times when he had smiled at Severus, it had rarely reached his eyes. They had never sparkled as they were doing right now.

Severus wanted to talk to the boy now more than ever, just how unhappy was he? This new revelation totally contradicted what he had intimated from the young man’s conversation with Hermia only moments before.

But Hermia did not seem to be planning to leave anytime soon. Instead, she was happily chattering away, making Harry laugh with a story about Marcus Iulius falling over a stray dog earlier that day.

Severus sank down in the corner of the small room completely covered by the cloak. Amazingly, under the circumstances of a very hot day and a very confined space, he did not feel too hot. Harry, on the other hand, scrubbing away with fervour, was obviously overheated. Severus could see a sheen of perspiration on the boy’s skin. Hermia, too, seemed hot, though she wasn’t working nearly as hard as Harry. Severus noted he was just pleasantly warm himself. Invisibility cloaks were rare in the magical world, and this one seemed rarer than most; Severus wondered, did it perhaps contain a cooling charm? This was something else that he would have to ask the boy about.

Though he wasn’t hot, he was warm. He was also tired, and as he sat there in the corner, supported by the wall, his eyes began to feel heavy. Not surprising since he hadn’t slept the night before, he had been too unsettled. The chatter of the two young people faded to a pleasant buzz in the background and, in the heat of the afternoon, Severus fell asleep.

 

***********

 

He was woken by the sound of voices. Male voices. This time instead of a pleasant murmur they were raised and aggressive.

_“No! No! I won’t! Stop it!”_ It was Harry’s voice, he sounded panicked.

Severus pulled off the invisibility cloak and rushed through to the shop, where the voices seemed to be coming from.

_“Do as you’re told slave. I want you to suck me off.”_

It was Devis Iulius Nocens who had spoken. Harry was on his knees again only this time he was being held there by Marcus Iulius and one of Modia’s twins. The redheaded slave looked deeply uncomfortable with his task, but there was nothing that he could do. There was a bruise blooming on Harry’s cheek, his mouth was cut and his tunic was torn.

Harry had a defiant look on his face, he spoke from between clenched teeth. _“My dominus does not share me.”_

_“Your dominus, obviously does not care about you.”_ Devis sneered. _“Look at the rags he dresses you in, the way he works you. I am going to make him an offer for you but I want to try you first. Open your mouth.”_

_“If you touch me I’ll tell my dominus. He will not sell me.”_

_“And did you ‘tell your dominus’ about my last visit, boy? Because if you did, he did nothing about it. Not that your word counts for anything, you are merely a slave. I could fuck you here on the floor and you could do nothing about that either, and even if your dominus pursued me through the courts and won, he would just get compensation for a damaged possession. You are nothing boy, you are property that’s all and you are far too arrogant for a slave. Now open up or Marcus will have to hit you again.”_

Severus was appalled. Six or seven days ago Harry had come to his lab. He’d told Severus that Devis had been to see him and Severus had told the bothersome whelp to deal with it himself and to leave him in peace. He had been in the middle of a particularly interesting experiment when the boy had interrupted him. How could he have been so stupid? Harry couldn’t defend himself against this. A slave in Rome had no rights, Harry couldn’t fight back, a Patrician could have a slave killed for hitting back or striking him in any way. Harry had no choice to acquiesce with anything that Devis wanted. 

The spoiled Patrician was wrong, Harry was far from being arrogant, anything but, as Severus now knew to his shame. Not many teenage boys could have done what Harry had done and passed as a slave in Ancient Rome. Severus doubted he could have done it at that age. Severus realised how little help he had given the boy. He should have seen what was happening to Potter, should have protected him before now.

_“If your lacky and your slave do not unhand my Harry right now, I may have to break your arm.”_ Severus said, moving swiftly into the room.

Everyone turned to look at him.

Marcus had his hand in Harry’s hair, pulling the boy’s head back. Harry was trying to look at Severus also, but he couldn’t move his head, the flint seller held him too firmly.

_“Let go of him NOW!"_ Severus hissed. Marcus moved away from Harry, his hands raised to show surrender.

Devis, smiled. _“Ah, hello,”_ the blond boy said, pleasantly. _“You are Severus Hispanicus, I believe? Delighted to meet you. I want to make you an offer for your slave. I was just trying him out.”_

_“He is not for sale, Devis Iulius Nocens, not now, not ever,_ Severus answered, rudely ignoring the polite greeting. _“Harry come here, please.”_ Harry looked at him, eyes wide, breathing hard and shaking violently. But he stood slowly and came over to where Severus was standing. The front of his tunic had been ripped away, exposing his left nipple and his bare torso.

_“I’ll make you a good offer,”_ Devis Iulius said, far more coldly than before, the pleasant smile replaced by a petulant scowl. _“It would not do to refuse me. My father is a very powerful man. He does not like to see his son displeased.”_

Devis had an insufferably smug look on his face when he finished speaking and Severus itched to slap him. 

This was the boy who was responsible for Rufus losing his tongue. He was a high born Patrician, used to having everything his own way. However, by trying to take his slave away and threatening Severus in the process, he was about to find his wishes thwarted, perhaps for the first time in his life.

_“Harry is still not for sale. Not at any price, not to you, not to anyone, ever. I would thank you to leave now Devis Iulius Nocens, before I find myself forced to be truly rude to you.”_

The blond boy blanched, seemingly furious.

_“You have not heard the last of this, Spaniard!”_ he snarled, before turning to leave. Severus surreptitiously and wordlessly cast the _Memoriam Reflectus_ spell at the boy’s back. He would not be threatened by a spoiled child such as this. However influential the boy thought himself to be, he was merely a Muggle after all and therefore defenceless against any spell Severus might wish to cast. 

The door slammed behind the three men as Devis stormed out, roughly grabbing his own slave by the wrist as he left. The poor boy would suffer for his master’s defeat Severus thought sadly.

Severus turned his attention back to Harry. Finally they could talk, He needed get the boy some salve, clean him up a bit, and show him some much deserved sympathy. Then, finally, they would be able to talk about this and all the other things Severus needed to say. But he found Harry staring at him, eyes filled with undisguised horror.

_“My cloak, Domine. You have my cloak. When did you get my cloak?”_

Severus could have cursed himself. The blasted cloak was still lying over his left arm, of course Harry would recognise it instantly. How foolish he was sometimes!

_“Do you have my rucksack too?”_ Harry’s voice sounded shaky, _“does it still have my things in it?”_

_“I meant to give it to you,”_ Severus said contritely, _“but I thought you might have used some of the items foolishly.”_

The boy’s head snapped up and he glared at Severus. _“They are my things. I am not completely stupid, you know! I know to be careful. There were times I could have used my wand. And…”_ his voice broke then. _“Is…do you have my photograph album?”_

Severus nodded.

The boy looked as devastated as he had that night that Severus had kicked him out of bed, the night that he had taken Harry’s virginity. His chin was quivering in the same way now, as if he were desperately trying to hold on to emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him.

Severus reached out.

“Harry.” He said softly.

_“No! Don’t touch me! Please don’t touch me. And why are you calling me Harry? Don’t do that! You never call me Harry except when you are fucking me.”_

The boy was backing away from Severus, his eyes had filled with tears. He swiped at them with the back of his hand.

_“I don’t understand. Are you mocking me? Why else would you call me Harry?”_ The boy was desperately trying not to cry, but a great heart-wrenching sob was wrested from him anyway.

Severus wanted to hold him. No wonder he was in such a state – the boy had almost been raped. If Severus truly had been away for the day, there would have been nothing and nobody to prevent it happening. Severus should have given him the wands and the invisibility cloak, he should have trusted him. Harry had surely worked hard enough to earn that trust. The problem was that Severus had only just realised it himself.

_“I did not mean to deprive you,”_ he said in a conciliatory tone. _“I merely forgot that I still had the rucksack.”_

He held out the cloak to the boy. _“This is yours, I should have given it to you long before now. I will fetch the album too, and the wands. Come with me.”_

Harry took the cloak without coming any closer and then held it to his chest, like a talisman.

Severus turned towards his bedroom, trusting the boy to follow. But Harry didn’t enter Severus’ room, he hovered in the doorway instead, standing first on one leg and then on the other. He didn’t speak, he merely watched Severus retrieve his belongings whilst fat silent tears were streaming down his face. His cheek was colouring to a deep purple and his lip was swollen. 

Severus picked up the bag. It was so battered, so shabby and yet it was all the boy had. He walked over to the doorway and gave Harry the rucksack that he should have returned months ago.

Harry flinched when Severus came close. The boy seemed completely destroyed, far more devastated than he had been by his treatment by Devis Iulius Nocens; he’d apparently accepted that as if he were used to it.

_“Harry, I…”_

_“STOP IT!”_ Harry shouted. _“Stop calling me Harry, as if you care about me, as if you like me. I know you don’t, you’ve told me often enough._

_“Are you being nice because I nearly got fucked? Cos I got roughed up a bit? Well don’t be, I’m used to it. That’s the way you treat me after all. ‘on your knees boy, suck it down, that’s right, such a greedy little whore.’”_ Harry quoted his own cruel words back to him. _“It doesn’t matter anyway, I’ll survive. I always seem to bloody survive.”_

Severus flinched. He had said such a thing to Harry, that and far worse. He had hurt him, too, more than once and more than just a bruise or two. The boy sounded so bitter, so defeated and Severus would give anything to ease the despair that he heard in the boy’s voice.

_“I trusted you,”_ Harry said. _“I thought we were doing this together, getting through this together. I have been so fucking stupid, haven’t I?”_

_“Please come in, Harry,”_ Severus said softly. _“We can talk this through.”_

But Harry shook his head.

_“Leave me alone. Please leave me alone. I really don’t want to talk to you right now, I know we have to live together and I really don’t want to say something that I’ll regret. And right this minute I am very close to saying some truly unforgivable things. I…erm…I don’t feel very well. I am going to lie down for a while.”_ The boy was backing away from him, he stumbled slightly and reached out to the wall to steady himself. His knees were bloody and bruises were blossoming on his arms. Harry had been badly battered in his encounter with Devis.

Severus wanted to follow him to hold him, make him better. But right now he wasn’t welcome. Harry had made that very clear, and Severus had taken so much from him already that he could not bring himself to over-ride the boy’s decision right then. Harry had acted very maturely, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his temper the way that Harry had if he had been treated the way he’d treated Harry.

It was only after Harry had left the room that Severus realised that the boy had spoken almost flawless Latin for the entire, fraught conversation.

 

***************

 

Hours later Severus still ached to go to the boy. Harry had retreated to the storeroom that he used as a bedroom when he wasn’t sleeping with Severus. The room didn’t have a door; Harry had strung a rough Hessian curtain across the gap. Severus’ heart lurched each time he saw it. It was such a pathetic, flimsy barrier, no real protection at all, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to cross it just yet. He’d spent the remainder of the afternoon doing Harry’s job in the shop. There was a constant stream of customers and each and every one of them asked after Harry.

By the twelfth hour of the day Severus felt even more respect for Harry than he had earlier. Being nice to people all day was something that Severus found traumatic. They had to sell potions in order to make enough money to live, but to actually have to be friendly to customers, to listen to them moan about their aches and pains! He didn’t know how Harry did it day after day. By the time Severus had served his last customer he was practically growling. He actually had to lean against the door to still his agitation when he locked up for the night.

Which was why he was so startled when somebody rapped at the rough hewn wood just after he had barred it shut.

It was Modia’s daughter, Virginia. Her eyes widened when she saw Severus and he was sure that the little girl gulped.

“Oh…um…erm…hello…er…Domine.” The child’s eyes were practically dilated with fear and if Severus had not been so worried about Harry he might have smirked at her reaction. It was almost like being at Hogwarts again, keeping the first years in their place. 

_“Fetch your mother, child,”_ Severus said gruffly without any preamble. He had no idea why the girl was here, but she would prove useful, he thought.

The girl gave a strangled squeak, turned and ran.

Severus slammed the door behind the rapidly retreating figure, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He felt like the day had been interminable and it wasn’t over yet. He had no idea what he was going to do. There had been no sign of Harry since he had retreated to the room in which he slept. Severus couldn’t really call it his room, not after he had seen it, not after he had watched the boy wash filthy cauldrons in a corner of it or seen how few possessions he owned.

Severus didn’t have relationships, so he never had to work at them. This time, however, he knew he had wronged the boy, time after time and that he would have to make amends – but he had absolutely no clue how to go about it.

He saw again the wounded look in the boy’s eyes when he had first noticed his invisibility cloak. He heard the sad little voice quoting his own cruel words back to him and his stomach lurched. Merlin, what should he do?

Should he go and see the boy, say that he was sorry? Was that what people did? Severus had not apologised to anyone since he had been a boy himself, even younger than Harry was now. He had apologised to the boy’s mother for calling her a Mudblood and she had rejected him; would Harry do the same? Severus shook himself, there would be no more of that. Comparing the boy to his parents all the time was what had got him in this mess in the first place.

He made his way back to the storeroom and stood outside. The Hessian curtain was flimsy and insubstantial but it seemed like an insurmountable barrier to Severus right then. He took out his wand and cast a transparency spell. The curtain shimmered and disappeared from sight. If he reached out and touched it he would know that it was still there, but the transparency spell allowed him to see into the little room, at least it would once his eyes had adjusted to the gloom. This was the oldest part of the building and the building itself was one of the oldest in the alleyway, so Modia had told him anyway, not long after he had purchased the property. That was why it was so sprawling, why it had a well and a courtyard garden, why it was seemingly so desirable to Gaius Iulius Nocens.

Harry was curled in his cubby bed. Severus wanted to go closer, to touch him. But he didn’t dare. Harry’s eyes were closed, he had the photograph album and the cloak clutched tight to his chest and the bag stood beside him, unopened on the beaten earth floor. His cheeks were streaked with dirt and blood, he had been crying.

He looked so young, so tragically pathetic, but still Severus could not bring himself to enter. He did not think that he could bear to see the look of hurt and betrayal again in Harry’s eyes.

When Severus heard someone rap at the front door he practically ran to answer it. Woe betide whomever it was if they did not turn out to be Modia. He would hex them so hard that their teeth would rattle.

Severus was in luck though. It was his matronly friend.

_“Severus? Love > What’s wrong?”_

Modia’s sympathy almost undid him.

“Harry,” he rasped.

“ _What’s wrong with Harry?”_ Modia sounded alarmed. _”Is he ill? Hurt?”_

Severus shook his head and then nodded, leaving Modia looking confused.

_“He isn’t ill. But he is hurt.”_ He looked into Modia’s concerned brown eyes. _“Devis Nocens was here with his thug, Marcus; they roughed Harry up a bit.”_

Modia was indignant. _“Not again!”_ she said. _“You must speak to that boy, Severus. It isn’t decent the way he keeps after your Harry. Unless, of course…_ ” she looked at him appraisingly, _“unless you want to sell him to Devis Nocens?”_

“ _No!_ ” Severus shouted the word. “ _Harry’s mine! I won’t sell him to that arrogant boy.”_

Severus was shocked yet again, what the Hell had Devis been doing to Harry if even Modia knew about the harassment? He was glad now that he had hexed the odious boy and more determined than ever to get to the bottom of the Potter enigma.

“ _That’s what I thought,”_ Modia said, satisfied.“ _That’s why you wouldn’t sell him to me either, because Devis could put pressure on me to sell, isn’t it? But Harry would be safe with me. Once I marry Thomas, I’ll no longer be obligated to the Nocens family. Harry would belong to Thomas. He was born a free man, he has no such obligations.”_

“ _I will not sell Harry to anyone, not ever,_ ” Severus growled. “ _I understand now why you think I might. I have seen with my own eyes how shabby Harry looks, how uncared for…but I didn’t notice before, I didn’t know. But now that I do, things will be better. Harry is mine and I will not let him go._ ”

Severus met Modia’s eyes as he spoke. He thought he saw a glimmer of approval in the brown depths.

He continued, _“You were right about my poor treatment of Harry. I didn’t realise, I didn’t understand. But now I know and things will change. Devis, however obnoxious he might be, only hurt Harry physically. It was me who hurt him the most. I hurt him by my behaviour, by something I did that has emotionally devastated him. At the time I thought it was for the best, but I now know I was wrong. Anyway, he has retreated to his room; he won’t come out and he won’t speak to me.”_

Modia looked totally confused. _“Harry is your slave, Severus, of course he’ll come out if you tell him to. You should just wallop him if he refuses._ ”

Severus almost despaired. Only last night this woman had been berating him for his treatment of Harry, today she was advocating giving the boy a beating for disobedience. What on earth was he going to tell her? This place was so strange in so many ways, so out of his experience, but his relationship with Harry was even stranger. He needed advice. However, he could not tell Modia the whole truth. Maybe a variation of it would be enough?

“ _Sit, please,_ he said, pulling out one of the stools that had been in use by customers all day. Modia sat, her eyes expressed both confusion and curiosity.

“ _Severus, what is going on?_ ”

“ _I need your help, Modia. I don’t know what to do._ ” Severus peered at the woman who had somehow become a friend in the last few months, who had accepted him, and been kind to him and, of course, to Harry.

“ _Harry is more than just a slave. He is also the son of my oldest friend and my worst enemy. I loved his mother more than life itself. She was everything to me, kind and loving and good._ ” Severus swallowed, his throat felt dry. Modia stood up and bustled over to the table that stood in the far corner of the shop. There were a variety of small amphora there and she poured him some watered wine.

Severus took the goblet that she gave him and swallowed deeply. He nodded his thanks and then continued. “ _We had known each other since childhood, she and I, but as we grew older, we grew apart. Then one day we had a row, a horrible argument. She wouldn’t forgive me, wouldn’t hear my apology, and our relationship ended._ ” Severus wondered if Modia could read the desolation in his troubled gaze, if she could tell how Severus’ world had come crashing down when Lily rejected him. It had been the end of his life, or so it had seemed at the time, as if all light and joy had deserted him, leaving no one to help Severus turn away from the Dark path, no one to care. “ _I didn’t stop loving her, though,_ ” he whispered, finally. “ _She was the only family I had._

_“Eventually she married Harry’s father. He was a boy I hated and he hated me. He had made my life a misery, he and his friends._ ” Severus sank down to sit on another stool as he spoke. He peered up at Modia, her eyes seemed to be glittering with tears and he couldn’t think why that might be. “ _Harry looks just like him, or I used to think so at least._

_“They died when Harry was a baby – murdered, actually. Where we come from, Harry had people after him, especially a very evil man who wanted to hurt him. But I have always tried to keep him from harm – my way of keeping his mother alive, I suppose._

_“When we came here I took him as my slave to keep him safe. I thought that I hated him, but I don’t, not anymore. I love him, Modia, and I hurt him. I kept things from him that belonged to his parents. I saw him only as his father’s son, a reminder of his mother. I have used him and treated him cruelly. But I was only seeing his father, not Harry, my sweet, loyal, loving Harry, not until today – and now I’m afraid it is too late.”_

_”Oh piffle!_ ” Modia said huffily, getting to her feet.

“ _You care about him? Then go to him, tell him so, free him if you want to, but don’t sulk and brood. Life is too short and far too nasty for that. He obviously cares about you, anyone can see that. Buy him a few presents, tell him you are sorry and he’ll be back in your bed in no time, and if that doesn’t work a good spanking will set him right._ ”

Severus felt his jaw drop. “ _But what if he doesn’t forgive me?_ ”

“ _What if he doesn’t? He hardly has a choice. He is a slave, Severus, and for all that he is the child of your lost love, he has no rights. You sound like a lovesick girl in some cheap market-place play, singing of romance. Not the sensible man I thought that you were. I thought he was dying or something from the way that you carried on, not that you had a row and he has gone off in a snit!_

_“Now, I had better go. I have to make dinner after all, as apparently Harry hasn’t done it._ ”

Severus shook himself. “ _Oh!…Harry did make a meal, I think,_ ” Severus said, remembering the boy cooking earlier, “ _it was fish._ ”

He took a look around the shop, lifting lids, sniffing at contents, until over by the stove he found what looked like a terracotta casserole dish, filled with what seemed to be a fish stew. He handed it to Modia, “ _Here, take it. It just needs heating, I think._ ”

She smiled. “ _I should have known he wouldn’t let me down! I was dreading telling Rufus that there was nothing to fill the gaping maw that is his stomach! I think that I have come to rely far too much on that boy of yours.”_

Modia took the casserole pot, then she stood on tip-toe to reach up and brush a strand of hair away from his cheek. “ _Thank you, and don’t fret yourself. Just go see him – beat him, fuck him, do whatever you need to – and make it better, Severus, for both of you. Settle it for once and all, and then get on with living. You have a good life here. You have your health and a good-looking boy in your bed. You have plenty to eat, a healthy income and respect from your neighbours. It doesn’t get much better than that, love, you should enjoy it while you can.”_

Severus sat at the table for a long time after she had gone. He still didn’t know what to do. Of course he had not been able to tell Modia the whole truth. How could he tell her that by the standards of his own time he might well be considered a monster for the way he had treated Harry, even if Harry had not been the Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-world? Severus had been his teacher and, by the morals of his own time, he was the lowest of the low, practically a child molester, even though Harry was seventeen and of age. Yet here pederasty was accepted, encouraged even, Roman culture being so heavily based on classical Greek ideals in many ways. 

He had justified his actions time and time again because what he had done with Harry was normal here. But watching the boy unable to defend himself had disturbed Severus. He had known how vulnerable Harry was in this world, it was truly one of the reasons that he had started the charade in the first place.

But whilst Harry had done his best, even submitting to Severus sexually when required, Severus had not played his part. He had not looked after Harry as he should have done, as Harry had deserved, and he didn’t know how to make it right again. Brave man that he was, he could not bring himself to enter a small stone room and face a boy that he felt he had wronged so badly.

“ _Domine?_ ” Severus looked up with a start. It was Harry; he was standing somewhat shakily at the entrance to their quarters, looking battered and fragile. Severus thought that he must have washed because the tearstains were gone, though his eyes were still red and sore. The blood had gone, too, Harry’s knees were still scraped but they looked as if they had been cleaned out at least. He was wearing his other tunic, the one that Severus had transfigured all those months ago. This one didn’t have a tear in it.

He was so beautiful and Severus’ heart lurched. Here was his chance, an opportunity to make things right again, and he did not have to face the boy in that gloomy little room. Harry had come to Severus instead.

“ _I’d better start dinner,_ ” the boy said, sheepishly, he seemed deeply uncomfortable in Severus’ company, it would have to be him who made things better, Severus thought. “ _I’m… er… sorry, I… erm… fell asleep.”_ Harry couldn’t meet his eyes, _“It’ll be late, I’m afraid._ ”

Severus didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had just given away their dinner, instead he crossed the room in no more than three strides and wrapped his arms around Harry. He didn’t think about it, he didn’t speak, he just went to the boy and hugged him. Harry stiffened and started to say something.

But whatever he was going to say was lost because Severus leaned down and kissed him. He placed one hand behind the boy’s head and held it firmly, allowing him no escape, while wrapping the remaining arm around Harry’s waist, almost lifting him off his feet. Harry was not going to leave him again. At first the boy struggled, but Severus did not release him, he merely deepened his kiss, claiming those soft lips and plundering Harry’s sweet mouth. 

Initially, Harry still tried to push him away, albeit a little weakly, then, as Severus’ kiss deepened, he simply appeared to melt against Severus and allowed the taller man his way.

When he groaned, Severus thought that he had won, maybe Harry would listen to him now, maybe he would realise that Severus had never kissed anyone like this, never felt this way about anyone?

Severus hadn't done this before, not in all the time that they had been here, never really showed the boy any true affection, never made a declaration or showed him any love. How he regretted it now, how foolish he felt.

He had kissed the boy just about everywhere else but never on his lips, not like this. How ridiculous that they had never kissed! It had seemed too personal, too intimate, but right at this moment he didn’t want to stop, ever! Harry’s mouth was so soft, so yielding, his breath so sweet.

Harry gasped once more against Severus’ plundering mouth and struggled feebly again. Severus tasted the coppery, salty flavour of blood. Harry’s lip had been cut by Devis and his goon – of course, the boy would be sore! Severus reluctantly released his lips and, instead, moved on to his face, raining kisses on his nose, his uninjured cheek, and his eyelids.

“ _What…?”_ Harry began, but Severus shushed him. He placed a finger to Harry’s lips and then used his thumb to mop the blood that had started to ooze from the corner of that sweet mouth.

“ _I am so sorry,_ ” Severus whispered against the soft cheek, the same cheek he had been kissing a moment before. 

“ _I am sorry, Harry, for my part in your tragedy, sorry for keeping your things from you, sorry for not telling you the truth, for using you, for being cruel to you when you were a child, for not understanding you, for not seeing you, the real you._

_“You are beautiful and precious and all that I could ever want. I want you, Harry, in my life and in my bed. You are my happiness, you are my treasure._ ”

As Severus spoke he punctuated his words with kisses, licked at the salt tears that were streaming down the boy’s face. Harry was sobbing, a heart breaking sound.

“ _Don’t,_ ” he sobbed, bringing his hands up to try to push Severus away. “ _Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. Please don’t, Domine.”_

“ _But I do mean it, you foolish boy,_ ” Severus said, his voice sounding grave and very serious. _“I swear; I mean every single word of it, trust me, Harry_ .”

He held the boy away from him and cupped his cheeks firmly, forcing him to meet Severus’ gaze. “ _Do you forgive me?_ ” he demanded. Severus voice was hoarse, but determined, Modia was right, he would not let the boy say no. He would not be denied again. He would continue to kiss and stroke Harry until he had no choice but to forgive him. However, Harry met his gaze unflinchingly, he nodded and Severus growled in triumph.

He swung the boy into his arms still raining firm kisses on the parts of Harry that weren’t cut or bruised, gentle kisses on the parts that were. 

“ _I am going to take you to our room now and I am going to make love to you,_ ” he promised in a tight voice. “ _I am going to make you forget your own name. I will make you scream my name as I keep you on edge, as I tease you and torment you for hours. You will beg for release but you will not find that release, not until I allow it, not until you swear that you are mine. Do you understand me, my Harry?_”

Harry whimpered and Severus laughed, giddy with the happiness of the boy’s forgiveness. Severus was not a joyful man. Merlin knew, he had known little happiness in his life, but he was passionate and he felt things deeply. Modia had been right when she said that they were safe here, that no one could touch them. Severus was a very powerful wizard in a world that admired such things. He was respected, liked even, and he had this delicious boy to do with as he wished. They could be here for months, years even; there was no guarantee that they would ever get home. He would, of course try; he had to keep trying. Harry had a destiny that he was meant to fulfil. In the meantime, however, Severus was going to do something that he had never done before. He was going to enjoy every moment of his life, in this time at least and he was going to start with Harry.

He lowered the boy to his bed, gently and tenderly, removing the tattered tunic that the young man wore. Harry was bruised again, his ribs and shoulders blossoming with purple and red where he had been punched and kicked and held down to be violated.

Severus felt his anger rising at the sight, anger at himself. Harry hadn’t been raped, but only because Severus had been there to stop it. He would protect the boy better next time. He would erect wards and weave spells to protect Harry. This should not have happened, and Severus was determined it would never happen again. For a brief moment he felt a sharp stab of guilt alongside the anger, but as he met Harry’s eyes, he felt happiness bubbling up, drowning out the anger and guilt. Harry had miraculously forgiven him for everything. It was there in his eyes for Severus to read it, clear and strong and complete, even through the tears. And best of all, it would be there whenever Severus needed to see it.

“ _So beautiful!_ ” he whispered. Harry shook his head, he hiccupped another sob and then winced with pain as the movement put pressure on his ribs.

“ _Not beautiful!_ ” he said in a tight little voice. “ _Not good. Ugly, skinny, stupid, wicked, freakish._”

Harry was trembling violently, as if he were about to fall apart. He had held himself together so tightly and for so very long, but it seemed that Severus’ soft words were tearing down his defenses and leaving him exposed and vulnerable in a way that his harshness had never done. Severus had called him beautiful before, of course, but the word had been followed by whore or slut. He had never whispered sweetly to Harry like this, held him tenderly as if he really did love him. Harry seemed to be finding this new tenderness hard to understand and harder to accept.

As if through some newly formed connection with the boy, he suddenly seemed to understand what the boy was experiencing. With a feeling of dreadful certainty, Severus knew that no one had ever said such things to Harry, that no one had ever loved him or cared for him as he should have been loved and cared for.

This boy was not the spoiled prince that Severus had thought him to be; he was fragile, wounded, almost broken right now. As Severus held the young man in his arms he swore to himself that he would make Harry whole again. He would love him, honour him, treat him as the incredible treasure that he was. And somehow Severus knew that by doing this, by giving his love to Harry and accepting his in return, that he would find redemption and atonement for all the wrongs he had committed and never been able to find a way to right.

“ _You are beautiful, Harry,_ ” Severus said firmly in a tone that brooked no argument. As he _Accioed_ some salve from his storeroom, to heal Harry’s bruises, he heard doors crashing open and something clatter to the ground before the little terracotta pot smacked into his hand.

“ _My Harry!_ ” 

The boy closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. 

“ _Worthless,_ ” he whispered, “ _bad, so bad._ ”

“ _No!_ ” Severus mashed his lips against Harry’s again, causing the boy to cry out with the pain. Only yesterday he would have agreed with the young man’s assessment of himself, but not any more. Harry had to see what Severus saw. How hard working he was, how good, how unbelievably sweet.

Severus had not felt so light, so happy since he had fallen for Lily, since Lily had been his friend. Harry had that same goodness in him, goodness that must come from his mother, goodness that drew Severus to him so fiercely and made others desire to be with him as well. He thought Harry had been so beloved in the Wizarding world because of his fame, but apparently that was not the case and had never really explained how he engendered such love, such admiration. Harry’s special brand of ‘people magic’ worked here too. People wanted to be near Harry because he brought with him a lightness of spirit, an innate joy that seemed to burn brightly and gave people hope for happiness in their own lives.

Severus had never thought he could feel like so alive again. He had been dead inside for so very long. But thanks to Harry he did. He felt an overwhelming sense of happiness, now that he finally allowed himself to feel. He had fallen in love with this boy and he would not allow such criticism, not even from Harry himself.

“ _Do not speak!_ ” he hissed against the hot sweet flesh of Harry’s cheek, against the scolding tears. “ _I will not hear such things about you. They are lies, untruths and you will not speak them!_ ”

The boy’s green eyes widened, as expressive as ever. “ _But…_ ”

“ _Not a word Mr Potter, or I will whip you until you bleed!_ ”

The boy shivered, but his lips curved into a half smile and he chuckled slightly, perhaps more comfortable still with harsh words from Severus. He gave in to Severus kisses, did not argue with the sweet and tender words that Severus used or fight against the salve that Severus laved upon his bruises. He trembled and he whimpered, but he did not speak again and his eyes remained dry.

And finally, when those eyes became heavy with exhaustion and his breathing grew even, Severus held him in his arms as tenderly as a lover should. He watched over the boy as he slept and promised the slumbering young man that things would be different from now on. That he, Severus Snape, would look after him. Harry slept on, his breathing deep and steady and his fist curled tightly in Severus’ tunic as if holding on to life itself.

 

**********


	5. chapter five

Chapter five - in which Harry and Severus get up close and personal, and make some plans

 

Chapter five 

 

Severus awoke plagued by hunger and the tantalising scent of baking bread. Harry was no-longer beside him. It seemed that he was already in the shop, working hard. He looked up embarrassed as Severus walked in.

_“Um…good morning, Domine.”_

_“Good morning, Harry._ ”

Harry had just turned towards the oven when Severus spoke, and at hearing his name he halted and peered back over his shoulder, hands covered in flour.

“ _Oh, erm…we are still doing that Harry thing today then are we?”_

Severus smiled. “ _I think you might have to get used to the Harry thing, Harry. It is your name after all._”

Harry blushed. _I know my name, Domine, it’s just that you haven’t used it much until now._ ”

It was Severus’ turn to blush then. He had been engaged in a sort of strange game, whereby he had used Harry’s name as little as possible whenever they were in bed; and it had rarely occurred to him to use it when they were not. It had almost become a source of pride that he could deny the boy what he had asked for, which seemed so churlish now that he realised Harry had asked him for nothing else.

Harry had turned around fully by then to look at Severus. He was still blushing, neat white teeth worrying at his full lower lip. The cut had been healed by Severus the night before and now only a faint trace remained to show it had ever existed, but the fact that it had been there at all made Severus’ gut tighten with anger.

“ _I just don’t understand, Domine. You hate me, I know you do,_ ” Harry said plaintively. He shrugged one shoulder, appearing rather small and lost. “ _You’ve told me so often enough. What’s changed? Why now? What you said last night, did you mean it? Do you really want me in your life?_ " 

The look on his face, in his eyes, was so needy, so vulnerable that Severus wanted nothing more than to enfold Harry in his arms and comfort him with loving words. But just then the door opened and a man came in, a stranger to Severus, but someone who was obviously a regular customer. The man cringed at the growl Severus sent his way but, despite the fact that Severus paced up and down muttering darkly to himself showing his very obvious animosity, he obstinately stayed for what seemed like hours buying a variety of potions. 

Conversely, Harry was nice to the man, even managing to sell him a potion for weight loss without ever mentioning that the man might need such a thing. For the next several hours, as one customer after another trickled in and out of the shop, there was no chance for them to speak at all. Hating every cheerful word that assaulted his ears over this period, Severus perversely chose to stay anyway, reluctant to let Harry out of his sight. 

He did not retreat to his room; he did not take the warm rolls and leave to eat them in peace with his usual dribble of honey and hot peppermint tea. Instead he helped, biting his tongue to keep from bestowing the acerbic comments that occurred to him on their hapless customers. He ate like Harry did, standing up, grabbing a bite of fresh bread, a handful of grapes as they worked. He took the myriad of small gifts that were offered and accepted praise for Harry when person after person told Severus what a good boy he was, what a wonderful slave Severus owned, how lucky he was.

Harry for his part, blushed ever deeper at all the compliments but seemed determined to pretend that Severus wasn’t there and carry on as normally as possible. Severus’ actions obviously had him somewhat confused, it made Severus want to smile seeing the boy so strangely disconcerted. This had not been his initial goal in choosing to help him, but he supposed he could not blame the boy as he had never been nice to him before, never helped him carry out his tasks as he was doing now. He had moved the Quidditch hoops, so to speak, and Harry was obviously uncertain as to exactly what was happening. But the boy would just have to get used to it as Severus found he liked being with Harry, something he had only just discovered for himself and which he had not had time to explain to the boy. 

The pile of gifts, left by the steady stream of visitors, grew as the morning wore on. Severus was astonished at the variety of the tokens that were left in exchange for the freshly baked bread and at the warmth that these strangers, his neighbours, extended to him and to Harry. When, finally, the last person had left, Severus barred the door.

“ _Domine, what are you doing?_ ” Harry said surprised. “ _We can’t close the door. This is just a lull; we’ll be busy today._ ”

“ _We were busy yesterday; surely most people got what they needed then? I need some peace to speak to you,_ ” Severus replied crossly.

Harry looked astonished. “ _No, we weren’t. It was quiet yesterday because it was a market day and everyone was at the forum. We’re always busier after a market day. We can’t turn people away._ ”

It was Severus’ turn to be surprised. The shop had seemed popular enough to him the day before, certainly plenty of people had come through the door to keep Harry active all day long. Surely there weren’t even more people craving salves and potions? Just how popular were they, he wondered? But then, in truth, he didn’t care. “ _I think that the customers will come back after eighth hour, Harry, if they really need to. They can survive without my potions for an hour or so._ ” 

He couldn’t resist reaching out and touching the boy’s cheek. The bruise from the day before had nearly faded, but there was still just a slight shadow left behind. “ _When did you last take a day off, little one?_ ” He already knew the answer to that, didn’t he? 

“ _I…I’ve…erm…well you have never taken any time off either, Domine!_ ” Harry said, almost indignantly.

Severus nearly smiled.“ _Then perhaps we should both take a morning to ourselves?_ ” Severus took Harry’s hand and brought it to his mouth, laying a kiss on the boy’s slender fingers. “ _We do need to speak. I need to explain some things to you, Harry. And then, I promised you something last night, promised that we were going to do a lot of wonderful things together but you fell asleep on me, didn’t you, little one? I think I may have to punish you for that._ ” he whispered in Harry’s ear, chuckling softly.

Harry gasped as Severus sucked Harry’s fingers into his mouth and then moved forward to press against the boy. This time he did smile, Harry’s cock was already half hard beneath his tatty tunic.

Severus reached down and cupped the boy’s balls through the fabric of the tunic. “ _I think you like the idea, don’t you?”_ Severus breathed.

“ _Oh, God!_ ” Harry whispered.

Someone banged on the door and Harry jumped, Severus huffed and removed his hand from Harry’s genitals, curling his fists with annoyance instead. “ _Go through to the bedroom, Harry, and get ready for me. I’ll deal with whomever is at the door._ ”

“ _But…_ ”

“ _Now, Harry._ ”

Harry closed his mouth and left the room without another word. Severus couldn’t help wishing that the boy had been this obedient when he had been at school, but then he didn’t taunt Harry much anymore, did he? Or push him into rudeness and bad behaviour as he had once revelled in doing? Even before his recent discoveries he had stopped being quite so scathing when he spoke to the boy. Plus, the ‘punishments’ that he doled out to Harry now, during their playful lovemaking were ones that he seemed to enjoy very much indeed, almost as much as Severus enjoyed giving them. He smirked to himself as the thought occurred to him that he had never had such an armoury available at Hogwarts. 

The knock came again, harder this time. Severus opened the door with yet another growl and the middle-aged lady on the other side squeaked as she saw him, but stood her ground nevertheless, determined it seemed to buy what she wanted there and then. She scuttled off happily enough, though, a few scant minutes later, clutching a potion that aided stamina. She told Severus confidentially that she planned to use it on her husband. Severus pinned up a hastily scrawled notice with the words _**‘closed until eighth hour – do not disturb’**_ written clearly in dark ink and firmly barred the door one more time.

Then he made his way through to the bedroom.

Harry was waiting, curled up on the bed like a kitten, an impression that was enhanced by his amazing green eyes. He knew what to do by now, what Severus liked best. He waited patiently, eyes half closed, cock hard and weeping, waiting for Severus’ touch, legs spread wide displaying himself, a teasing smile on his lips. 

Severus knew he had first begun to fall in love with Harry in bed; the boy had always been so willing, so responsive and so generous. This was where they had first learned to communicate, after all, with gentle touches, kisses and sighs. In bed there had been few barriers between them, it was here that he had come to know Harry’s sweetness and vulnerability and here that Harry had truly learned to trust Severus fully.

Even now, with Harry was so clearly confused and disconcerted, it seemed he didn’t want to deny Severus; he still wanted sex with him. As he thought about it, he realized the young man had never once denied him or even seemed reluctant, not in all this time. He’d always looked so wanton lying on Severus’ sheets waiting to be ravished, so emotionally open, so willing. Yet, most astonishing of all, after all these months of shagging nearly every night, there was still something almost heart-breakingly innocent and pure about Harry. 

Harry looked up nervously as Severus walked in and gave him one of those sweet smiles that Severus had begun to find so endearing. This one was rather more tentative than usual, though, and his eyes still seemed somewhat clouded with confusion. 

The boy was undoubtedly puzzled, having as yet no idea what had brought about such a change in Severus. In fact, Harry still seemed most comfortable on the occasions lately when Severus was being firm with him, telling him what to do. It was behaviour he was used to, after all. Severus realized they desperately needed to talk. But not yet. First of all, he was going to make love to Harry as he had promised the previous night. 

Severus lay down beside his boy and a shiver ran down his spine. Harry was so gorgeous, Modia was right about how lucky Severus was. They had had sex many times before, he and Harry, but those times had always been about his pleasure. Oh, Harry had always had a good time, Severus had seen to that – probably one reason Harry became so easily aroused, was so willing to go to bed with him. But this time it was going to be all about Harry’s pleasure. That would be Severus’ first gift to his boy.

He began by kissing him, tenderly, lovingly. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. It was so gloriously messy, so dishevelled, so freshly fucked, the strands were gossamer fine, like incredibly soft thistledown. Harry was moaning already, gasping as Severus explored his mouth, deepening his kisses, running his tongue along Harry’s lips, forcing himself in and revelling in Harry’s responsiveness.

He ran his fingers lightly along the boy’s skin, allowing them to dance along his arm and back up before drawing them sensuously across his chest, brushing his nipple with a feather light touch. He traced Harry’s ribs, down lower to his belly button and back up to caress the other nipple, causing it to grow hard and pert beneath his touch. Harry shuddered. He was fully hard already. His cock was slim and firm, in keeping with the rest of Harry’s body; it rested heavily on one delectable thigh. Severus smirked to himself. He had learned all about the boy’s sensuality over the last few months, how easily he became aroused. No one else had ever seen Harry like this, open, trusting, whimpering with need. This was all for Severus.

He kept a pot of scented oil next to the bed; he dipped his hand in and coated his fingers liberally. They he reached down and caressed Harry’s cock. The boy gasped and arched into Severus fingers.

Severus chuckled.

“ _Beautiful boy,_ ” he whispered.

Harry groaned. “ _Oh God! Don’t say that! Do you know what your voice does to me, my dominus?_ ”

“ _Why, no, my Harry, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?_”

“ _Oh!_ ” Harry gasped as Severus ran his thumb over the skin that covered the end of the boy’s cock, he panted and swallowed, seemingly unable to speak for a moment or two.

“ _I am waiting, Harry,_ ” Severus whispered, just before he allowed the pointed tip of his tongue to follow the path that his thumb had already traced.

“ _Sinful voice!_ ” Harry croaked. “ _Wicked and dark. Like melted chocolate. Ahhhhhh!_ ” he arched up again, exposing the delectable line of his throat. 

Severus smirked through a mouthful of Harry. He had taken the head of the boy’s cock into his mouth and was currently sucking it in, running his tongue along the underside. Harry whimpered with need.

Severus released him for a moment. “ _Don’t stop, Harry. I am most interested in what you have to say._ ” Severus finished his sentence by licking one of Harry’s balls, rendering him incapable of saying anything for several seconds.

But he kept on trying, brave Gryffindor that he was.

“ _I…I could co…Oh, my God! I…could come…ah…just from…Fucking Hell, Dom-in-e!...Oh...ah…justfromthesoundofit!...Oh, fuck-ing-Helllll!_ ”

Severus smiled wickedly, allowing his hand take over from his mouth, letting his thumb gently massage Harry’s perineum. He had come to adore the reactions that he could elicit from his boy. Harry was just so incredibly responsive.

“ _Very eloquent, Mr Potter. If I heard you correctly, you could come just from the sound of my voice?_ ”

“ _Bastard!_ ” Harry screamed as Severus nibbled gently at the base of one of his balls whilst squeezing the other one and cupping it in his hand.

“ _We should try that one day. Would you like me to talk you to orgasm Harry?_ ”

But Harry had given up on speech it seemed and settled for a strangled moan as Severus’ finger breeched him, and Severus decided that he could watch the boy, needy and wanton like this, all day long.

Harry had abandoned himself completely to whatever Severus wished to do. His arms were thrown up over his head, his fingers curled. His eyes were shut tightly, but his legs were wide open, to allow Severus to do as he wished.

Such trust in Severus, such sweet abandonment. Severus relished it, did whatever he wished. He played with Harry, whilst time seemed for once to stand still. He teased the boy, tormented him with lips and tongue and fingers, until Harry mewled and begged and whimpered.

Eventually he prepared Harry’s entrance, dribbling oil along the crack of Harry’s arse, massaging it into the velvety skin. Harry’s greedy pink hole sucked his fingers in and clenched them tightly.

“ _Please, Domine?_ ” Harry finally managed to beg, sounding almost pitiful in his desperation. 

“ _Please what?_ ” Severus purred against the damp, superheated skin of Harry’s inner thigh.

“ _Please…f-f-fuck me, Domine. Oh please._ ” 

“ _Why, Harry,”_ Severus said teasingly, _“as you beg so prettily I think I just might._ ”

He lined the blunt tip of his cock against Harry’s entrance and then pushed inside, past the guardian ring, taking the boy slowly, carefully. Harry squirmed and whimpered again.

“ _Harder!_ ” he pleaded, pitifully.

“ _So needy, Harry._ ” Severus pulled out slowly.

“ _Oh!_ ” Harry whimpered the word, and Severus slammed back in, pushing the boy up the bed with the force of his entry. Harry screamed. The boy’s tight channel spasmed around Severus’ cock and Severus shouted too, howling his pleasure. Then he was pumping into the boy and Harry was squirming, writhing beneath him. Severus grabbed Harry’s feet, to steady himself and his lover, holding one foot in each hand. They fitted so beautifully, Harry’s heels in Severus’ palms, Severus fingers twined with Harry’s toes. Toes which flexed against Severus, sending him over the edge, triggering one of the most intense orgasms that he had ever had. It seemed to go on for several minutes, stream after stream of ejaculate, filling Harry, marking him as belonging to Severus. 

He lowered Harry’s legs and his softened cock fell out of Harry’s entrance. The boy whimpered at its loss.

“ _Don’t think I’m finished yet,”_ Severus whispered, taking care to keep his tone low, his words sibilant. “ _You look so beautiful there laid out  
before me, my darling boy. Seeing you like this makes me want to do things to you Harry. Tie you down, play with your helpless body for hours._” 

Harry was keening now, squirming in desperation, eyes clenched shut, body writhing slowly as if he was seeking Severus’ touch. Severus picked up one of Harry’s feet and started to nibble along the instep, punctuating his words with bites and kisses. 

“ _I want to kiss you and lick you all over. I want to start with your toes and work my way up to your cock. I want to swallow your cock Harry take it deep into my hot, wet mouth._ ” Harry was panting harshly as if on the very edge of orgasm. Severus consciously lowered his voice yet again and said slowly and sensuously. “ _You are so very beautiful, so precious! Come for me, Harry._ ” And Harry did. He came. Hard. Screaming at Severus’ command.

If Severus had not just had one of the most incredible orgasms of his life, he would have hardened again, just at the sight of Harry lying beneath him – flushed, trembling, eyes closed, his cheeks flushed a dusky pink. He was so incredibly gorgeous and he belonged to Severus. So much so that he had orgasmed to the sound of his lover’s voice with hardly a touch besides. He felt humble then, overwhelmed with the gift that he had been given, the precious time that he had shared with his boy. 

At last Severus relaxed down onto the bed; he pulled Harry close to him and dropped a kiss on the boy’s temple. They would doze for awhile perhaps, comfortably wrapped around each other, and then they would talk. He reached up to stroke Harry’s hair wanting to touch him. 

“ _I love you,_ ” Harry whispered as he snuggled into Severus’ chest. Then he stiffened, looked up at Severus with horror in those wide green eyes of his.

“ _I’m sorry, sir. I, shouldn’t have said anything…I er…_ ”

“ _Oh, Harry. My Harry._ ” Severus had never felt such tenderness for another human being as he felt for Harry just then. He placed a finger on Harry’s lips, quietening him, seeking to reassure him.“ _Shush now. You are such a foolish boy sometimes. Don’t you know that I love you, too?_ ”. 

 

**********

 

“ _I think I started to fall in love with you the day you fixed my eyesight,_ ” Harry said dreamily sometime later, when he had woken from his nap. “ _Nobody’s ever cared enough before to ask about it. I thought the world looked fuzzy round the edges to everyone, until I was seven and had my eyes tested at school. The optician wrote me a prescription for glasses and the first time I put them on I can still remember it. It was like when I first saw the magical world at Diagon Alley, everything was so clear and bright._

_“Nobody else bothered to ask me if I wanted to take a potion, not even Dumbledore or Pomfrey. I mean, now I think about it, I realise that there had to be something that cured eye problems because no one else in my year wore glasses, just me. So why did nobody ever tell me?”_

Severus couldn’t answer him. He couldn’t say why Poppy and Albus had not bothered to help. Perhaps Poppy assumed that Albus had already made an offer? Perhaps Albus didn’t even notice? Perhaps he liked Harry’s resemblance to James? It was far too late to ask him now, of course. 

_“There was so much I didn’t know, you see. I didn’t know that I was a wizard until Hagrid told me._ ” Harry was staring at nothing as he continued to speak, not even hearing the Severus’ gasp at the revelation. He had known, from some of the things that Albus had said, that Harry had not had the happiest childhood, but he had always assumed that the boy had at least known of his heritage.

“ _They hated magic, my aunt and uncle,_ ” Harry continued, “ _and because I was magical they hated me. I thought that my mum and dad died in a car crash; they told me that my dad was a useless, unemployed drunk and that mum wasn’t much better._ ” 

Severus gasped again, louder this time. He was horror struck. The Petunia Evans that he had known had always seemed to envy magic and he had assumed that the woman would have adored her magical nephew. He had thought she would have basked in the glory of being able to raise a child so beloved of the magical world. It seemed, though, that he was wrong. The magical world or James & Lily had rejected Petunia, and she, in her turn, had rejected her sister’s child.

“ _Were they cruel to you, Harry?_ ”

Harry looked at him with a steady gaze. “ _I think they thought they were generous, keeping me at all. They worked me hard, made me do chores all my life, lots of them and they dressed me in Dudley’s old cast offs. They were terrified of me; I see that now. Compared to what happens to children here, they were kindness and generosity itself, I think._ ”

“ _Ah, but we are not from here, are we Harry? I think we have let ourselves forget that far too often. In truth, you are not my slave. I think we have both forgotten that, too. You are a very powerful young man. You are already a great wizard and since we arrived here I have taken that away from you. I’m sorry about that Harry. I am sorry I took so much from you, and I’ll ensure that you get all your money back. I should have not taken it without asking._ ”

Harry had been curled against Severus with his head resting on Severus shoulder, but he pushed himself up now so that he was propped on one arm looking down at him.

“ _It’s all right,_ ” he said seriously. “ _I was really angry with you for a little while, but then I realised that you didn’t mean to hurt me. I can be too impulsive sometimes, so maybe you were right about my cloak and the wands. I reckon that I didn’t really mind about those. It was the album that hurt me so much. It is all that I’ve got of my mum and dad. I mean I know I have the cloak but it isn’t the same. Hagrid gave me the photos; did you know?”_

Severus didn’t know. He’d had no idea, but Harry still wasn’t looking at him or expecting an answer. He was still staring into the distance, at something only he could see, eyes dry, voice steady but quiet.

The only thing that Severus did know, had learned over the past twenty-four hours, was that everything that he had ever assumed about Harry, his childhood and his personality had been completely and utterly misguided.

_“Looking to the Dursleys, after my first year at Hogwarts… umm…well, they locked me in my room, that summer, and they weren’t feeding me much or talking to me. I would sit and look at the pictures and pretend that my mum and dad could really see me and that they were smiling and waving at me. That maybe I’d made them proud._

_“For a while it was all that I had, and when I thought that I had lost it? It hurt, you know? But then you apologised, no one has ever done that before, said sorry like that._

_“As for the rest of it? It’s not that I couldn’t have used my magic sometimes, because it would have been useful now and then, but I don’t care about the money and I sure as heck don’t want it back. It helped buy us this place, didn’t it?” questioned Harry, glancing shyly at Severus out of the corner of his eye. He continued, “Yeah, I guess I was just mostly angry about the cloak and the photos. As I said, they are all I have of my mum and dad. I mean I know that he was a jerk to you, but he was my dad, and I think he’d grown up by the time he had me._ ”

The cold knot of guilt was suddenly back in Severus’ stomach.

_“I am so sorry, Harry.”_

“ _I know you are. You’ve said so, haven’t you? It’s all right, Domine.”_

Harry leaned over and kissed Severus tenderly on the cheek. 

_“I was really worried when we first arrived because we hated each other so much and there was no one else to turn to. But you were all right, you weren’t cruel or nasty, you looked after me._ ”

“ _Not nearly well enough,_ ” Severus said, feeling deeply ashamed.

“ _You did!_ ” Harry insisted.

“ _On the contrary, child, I used you for my own pleasure and worked you like a house-elf!”_

To Severus’ surprise, Harry laughed. 

“ _No, you didn’t, Domine. I’m not a child. I got as much pleasure from our love making as you did, and you didn’t work me like a house-elf! The Dursleys did that, for as long as I can remember. I know the difference. I always get plenty to eat here and somewhere comfy to sleep. And sex!_

_“Lot’s of yummy, scrummy sex!”_

Harry’s eyes were sparkling with a sort of fierce joy. He was teasing Severus! No one had ever done that. Not since…

But Severus refused to even think that name, or let her into his thoughts, even. He was with Harry. His Harry, there was no room for anyone else. 

Harry ran one of those delectable feet of his along Severus’ leg and drew a circle around Severus’ nipple with the tip of his index finger. He was smirking, an expression that Severus couldn’t help feeling somewhat proud of, as it was so close to his own familiar smile.

_“You are insatiable, brat!”_ he said with a chuckle. _“I’m not sure I can do anything else right now. I think you might have killed me.”_

They lay entwined together like that for some time, whilst the warm morning summer sunshine streamed in through the shutters. Finally, and somewhat reluctantly, because it meant he had to move, Severus decided he could not wait any longer. He was hungry. He had missed dinner the night before, well, he had given it away to Modia at least, and breakfast had been eaten ‘on the run’ as he and Harry worked. 

_“Are you hungry, Harry?”_ he whispered into soft black hair.

Harry, it seemed, had been nearly asleep. He looked up at Severus somewhat blearily. _“I made some soup earlier,”_ he said. _“I’ll go get it.”_

_“No, you’ll stay here,” Severus said softly, loving Harry’s answering shiver arousal. “Today, I’ll get our lunch.”_

Harry’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. Severus had never done such a thing for Harry before, had he? Harry had always prepared and served all their meals. With Severus watching him so carefully earlier in the morning, he had made sure he kept busy, even going so far as to bustle around getting both lunch and dinner started, waving off Severus’ offers of help.

This time Severus was determined that Harry would be the one that was not allowed to help. He tucked the boy in bed and plumped up the pillows, silencing Harry’s protests with some gentle kisses.

As he pottered around the part of the shop that served as a kitchen, Severus determined that he would take care of Harry like this more often. The boy was a stupendous cook. Again the thought crossed his mind that the brat should really be very able at Potions, if he, Severus, ever gave him a chance. As he lifted lids and examined storage jars he was impressed by how well Harry had learned to preserve things the Muggle way, by drying meats and pickling fruits and vegetables. Severus felt another of those pangs of guilt, with which he was becoming all too familiar, as he realised, once again, how a wand and a simple charm would have saved Harry so much time and energy. He shook himself and assembled a tray of food to carry through to the bedroom. 

Harry glanced up when Severus came in – he still looked nervous, uncertain.

_“Thanks, Domine,”_ he said. 

Severus placed the tray on the bed and Harry reached over to grab a piece of bread. Severus slapped his hand away. _“Oh no you don’t!”_ he chuckled. _“I’m taking care of you today, Harry, in every way.”_

Harry looked completely bemused.

Severus dribbled some honey on a small piece of bread and then brought it close to Harry’s mouth.

_“I don’t suppose that anyone has ever really looked after you, have they Harry?”_ Severus whispered. _“I haven’t taken care of you properly either, not properly. Well, that’s all going to change starting right now._

_“Come on, little one, open up.”_ Severus brushed the honey soaked bread against the boy’s lips and Harry’s eyes filled with tears. He hesitated for a moment longer and then opened his mouth as Severus had requested.

Another piece of bread followed the first and then a grape and a slice of apple. Harry obediently opened his mouth and sweetly accepted whatever Severus gave him. Seeing Harry this pliant, and apparently happy, stirred something in Severus; he found it deeply arousing that the boy could submit with such joy to being cared for in this way. He didn’t quite understand how he had managed to ignore for so long the feelings of tenderness that Harry roused in him. His fingers disappeared into Harry’s hot, wet mouth. Harry’s tongue brushed against his skin and sent a shiver down Severus’ spine.

The tears in Harry’s eyes had welled but not fallen. In fact, those eyes were smiling now, as were the full pink lips. The next time he put a sliver of apple on Harry’s tongue, Harry closed his mouth around Severus’ fingers, sucking them in. Severus moaned. Harry reached out and took Severus’ hand in his own, pulling it down until Severus’ fingers brushed against Harry’s rapidly hardening cock.

He moaned again and Harry’s grin widened. Severus reached over to the tray and grabbed a small bunch of grapes. He held the stalk between his index finger and thumb and gently ran the fruit along Harry’s luscious lower lip. Harry giggled and snagged a grape between neat white teeth. Harry wiggled his hips, brushing his cock against Severus’ hand again.

Severus chuckled. _“You are such a bad boy, Harry,”_ he purred. He lifted a goblet of watered wine to Harry’s mouth and tipped it so the boy could drink. Harry tilted his head so that the wine ran down his chin and his neck. Severus put the goblet aside and followed the wine trail with his tongue. He followed Harry back down to the pillows, pinning the boy’s hands down and kissing him deeply on the mouth.

Kissing Harry was wonderful and Severus could not understand why he had ever resisted this, why he had held back from this for so long. Harry’s kisses were passionate and loving, and sensually sweet. With many of his previous lovers Severus had felt as though he had forced his kisses on them. He had no such doubts here. Harry kissed him back as needily and as forcefully as Severus kissed him.

This time their coupling was slow and tender and lasted for a long, long time.

 

************

 

_“You’ve definitely killed me, this time, I think,”_ Severus moaned, much later as he lay amongst the soft pillows... a smiling Harry cuddled up to against his side and gently stroking his chest.

_“Nah, you look fine to me.”_

_“I am an old man, Harry. I don’t have the stamina of a seventeen year old anymore.”_

He could feel Harry’s half laugh against his chest. _“I’m eighteen, Domine, not seventeen. It was my birthday in July.”_

_“Oh fuck!”_ Severus couldn’t help exclaiming, lifting his hands to cover his face.

_“What?”_ Harry looked completely bewildered.

Severus sighed. Here was yet another thing he could feel guilty about; Harry’s birthday had gone by unacknowledged and uncelebrated. It was yet another way that Severus had let him down. The ironic thing was that Harry didn’t even understand why Severus was upset.

Harry reached up and gently pulled Severus hands down. Severus was lying on his back and Harry was sitting beside him, naked and cross legged looking down at him with a worried expression.

_“Domine, what’s wrong?”_

_“I forgot your birthday!”_

Harry looked totally puzzled then. _“So?”_

Severus pulled Harry down and wrapped his arms around the boy again and kissed him on the head. He wondered again how he had managed to misunderstand the boy so completely. The misconceptions he had foisted on Harry, all his beliefs about the boy, they’d all been so wrong, so twisted.

_“I’m sorry,”_ he said, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

_“I know, Domine. You said that already.”_

_“I didn’t apologise for forgetting your birthday,”_ Severus continued, not liking the fact that he sounded quite sulky, even to himself.

_“Did you know when my birthday was, then?”_ Harry asked, earnestly.

Severus had known when Harry’s birthday was. Not the exact date perhaps, but he vividly remembered hearing about Harry’s birth. Severus rarely drank to excess, it reminded him too much of his own boorish father, but the day that Harry Potter was born he had gone on a three day drinking spree. He had done his best, long ago, to banish that memory as well as many others from that awful period of his life.

Here, in ancient Rome, he had once again forgotten who Harry truly was. Not a slave boy to be treated as such (despite the fact they had to pretend for the sake of their safety), but a bright, funny and gifted wizard – nothing like the brattish, pampered princeling that Severus had once supposed him to be. Severus had, at last, come to accept and believe this, totally and completely. Now he just had to convince Harry – both that his whole attitude had changed and that the boy was worthy of respect and love. He still had much to make amends for. 

_“Well, not exactly.”_ he said finally, getting back to Harry’s question. _“But I should have remembered when it was, more or less. I have not been very good to you, Harry, I have so many things wrong and I am sor…mhmph…”_

Harry had put his hand over Severus’ mouth, holding it there quite firmly. _“No!”_ he said. _“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve said sorry, and that’s enough now. You’ve treated me better than anyone else I’ve ever lived with, so stop it. No more sorrys, okay? We just go on from here.”_

Still totally naked and as unselfconscious as usual, the boy gazed quizzically at Severus, who thought he looked just like a dark-haired imp. Harry’s eyes were sparkling and his head was tipped to one side. Severus was sure he was being laughed at and tried to put a disgruntled expression on his face, but he couldn’t quite manage it. Seeing the delight dancing in those glittering emerald eyes was an unexpected pleasure, like a cool breeze on a very hot day.

_“Mlph ump phump!”_ Severus mumbled through the boy’s hand.

Harry laughed out loud.

_“Okay, Domine?”_ he insisted.

Severus nodded.

Harry took his hand away from Severus’ mouth and kissed it instead. He reached over and snagged a bunch of plump red grapes while positioning himself so that he was draped over Severus’ chest, effectively pinning him to the bed, and proceeded to feed the fruit to Severus one grape at a time.

 

**********

 

They would have to get up soon. Eighth hour was fast approaching and they had to open the shop. Severus placed a kiss on the boy’s messy hair. It didn’t seem fair that they should have to return to work, especially Harry, who had already worked so hard and who deserved the rest of the day away from the shop. He pondered for a little longer, wondering if there was a way that they could have the remaining work hours free of commitments. 

_“Do you think Rufus or Hermia, would stand in for you this afternoon?”_ Severus eventually asked. _“I want to take you shopping.”_

“ _What for?_ ” Harry asked, seemingly taken unawares.

“ _Oh, Harry!”_

The boy looked adorably confused again.

_“You need some tunics, some sandals, a belt. You’ve asked me not to apologise again, Harry, so I won’t, but I do have to make amends. I’ve bought you nothing since we arrived. I used your money to pay for the shop, my ingredients and plenty of clothes and other items for myself. In the meantime, you have enabled us to earn a lot more. It’s your money, too, and you need these things and more. You’re dressed in rags, little imp, and you shouldn’t be.”_

Severus smiled at the boy who was suddenly looking uncomfortable. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at the Potions Master.

_“You don’t need to buy me anything,”_ Harry muttered, still not meeting Severus’ eyes.

Severus wrapped his arms around the boy again and pulled him close, so that Harry’s head was resting on his shoulder. He cradled the boy against his chest and carded his fingers through Harry’s thick, silky hair, trying to soothe him. 

_“Yes I do, Harry. You deserve some nice clothing at the very least, I promised I’d take care of you, remember? Besides, it is time my slave was dressed in a manner that reflects proudly upon his dominus,” Severus smirked. “Don’t’ you agree, brat?”_

From his position against the firm, warm chest, Harry peeked up at Severus through his lashes his mouth curling into that increasingly familiar smirk. 

Smiling, the older man continued, _“That means clothes, shoes and anything else that you need or want. So, we are going shopping. Agreed?”_

Eyes shining with something undefinable, Harry nodded his agreement.

“ _There is also something else I want to discuss with you, Harry. You were, and technically still are, my student. Even here in ancient Rome, there is a lot I could be teaching you and I’ve been neglectful of your studies long enough. We could go home tomorrow or, more likely, we could be here for a long time, possibly for years. If there is a chance for us to get back to the 21st century we need to start working together, you still have the Dark Lord to face. You could learn a lot whilst we are here. We will find somewhere safe to practice and start your lessons again.”_ Here Severus smirked at Harry. _“After all, dominus means teacher as well as master and since we’ve been here, I’ve taught you nothing, Harry._ ”

Harry laughed, a little uncomfortably this time, both at the thought of Voldemort and the idea of starting lessons again. “ _But, Domine, I don’t think I have time for lessons right now,_ ” Harry offered hopefully. 

“ _I’ve finally realised that you waste too much of your day on mundane chores,_ ” Severus said. “ _We should get someone to help you in the shop which would free up much of your time to spend helping me with research and allow us practice time._ ”

Harry stiffened. “ _What, like buy a slave, you mean?_ ” He sounded appalled. “ _I don’t think I could do that, Domine. Buy another person and make them work for us._ ”

Part of Severus felt just as appalled as Harry. He still wasn’t able to cope with the way people were treated in this time; but he and Harry had too many secrets – secrets that needed to be kept at all cost. Harry needed help and it was imperative they find someone who would not betray them, someone they could trust, someone whose loyalty was unimpeachable. A well treated and cared for slave would be just such a person.

“ _Think, Harry, anyone that we, acquired,_” - funnily enough he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the word purchased – “ _would have a much better life with us than many places in which they might end up. I would train whoever it was in simple potion making and then, when we return home, we could free them._ ”

Harry shuddered, and nodded, reluctantly accepting that Severus was right. He hid his face in Severus’ chest. His next words were muffled against Severus’ skin. “ _Would you have to go to the slave market?_ ”

Severus almost shuddered, himself. The thought of walking among all that misery, of being a buyer, owning another human being, selecting just one person to bring back with him, chilled Severus to the very bone. He wasn’t sure he could do it.

“ _Maybe Modia…?_ ” he wondered aloud. Modia did have a soft heart, but she was used to the cruelty that was Rome. Five of her own children were slaves and she accepted slavery as part of everyday life. One of her sons had been mauled by a wild animal and yet she still went to the games, teased Severus, in fact, for what she saw as his ‘fragile sensibilities’ when he continued to refuse to attend the all too frequent circuses of slaughter.

_“It’s just the thought of it!”_ Harry whispered.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Harry held onto Severus as if holding onto life itself and Severus continued to keep the boy close to him, stroking his hair. It was wonderful, this closeness. But so much was alien here, they were a long way from home and sometimes Severus felt the strangeness more acutely than others, but never had the feeling been stronger than it was right then.

“ _Oh!_ ” Harry said, sitting up suddenly, as if he’d had a revelation. “ _What about Apisus? We could make his life better. Maybe the inn keeper would sell him to you, Domine? He has such an awful life._ ”

Harry sounded quite excited as he suggested a possible solution. Severus had to admit that it was a good idea. Modia herself had said that she wanted to get rid of the boy. Severus had seen for himself what an awful life Apisus was living, being brutally fucked several times a night, being regularly battered by Thomas, the innkeeper. If they left him there at the tavern he might not live much longer, he might succumb to disease or the over enthusiastic fists of a drunken customer.

Severus smiled. _“I think that is one of your better ideas, Mr Potter. Now move your lazy arse and get some clothes on.”_

Harry studied his face closely for two or three beats of a heart, without saying anything. But he must have found the reassurance that he was seeking in Severus’ eyes because he answered Severus with a tentative smile of his own. 

They had built a much closer relationship in the last few hours, he and Harry, but they obviously had a long way to go yet. Severus’ change of heart was still too new for Harry. All he had was his word that things had changed. Severus was very relieved that Harry was prepared to trust him as much as he obviously did. After all, he had not been privy to Severus’ paradigm shift. He could not know how differently Severus felt now. 

They had to take it slowly, Severus thought. He would have to woo the boy, show Harry that he could trust him completely. He had a lot to make up for, he knew. But Harry was worth it, Severus had no doubt of that whatsoever; he had finally found someone with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life, however long that life might be. He could only hope that one day, perhaps, if he were very lucky, Harry might feel the same way about him.


	6. chapter six

Chapter six - in which Severus does some remembering

 

Looking back, Severus couldn’t help but marvel at how much he had changed. If Harry taught Severus tenderness, taught him to love, then the arrival of Apisus and the fate of Modia’s twins taught him compassion. 

Soon after Apisus had arrived, Severus altered his study so it became a sort of sitting room for them all. He removed a great number of scrolls that related to Potions to his workroom and just kept one wall of shelves for other scrolls. He found some couches and a chair or two and had them installed, he also widened the door so that it became double its original width allowing them to keep it wide open in warmer weather so he could sit and look at the garden.

However, his favourite addition to the room that had become a favourite retreat, was the inclusion of a round-bellied, wood-burning stove, for the approaching colder weather. When they had first arrived in Rome, Severus had found the temperature uncomfortably hot, but he seemed to have adjusted during the summer, and now that it was late November he was really beginning to feel the cold. 

The bread-oven heated the shop and the workroom quite easily, but this cosy little room was on the other side of the house, which in contrast had been cold and drafty. So Severus’ little stove provided heat for the study and the bedrooms and Harry’s customers kept them well supplied with wood to keep it going. Harry had also found them all hand knitted socks during one of his forays into the market along with thick woven rugs which they snuggled under when the winter wind made everything colder. 

Which brought them to this dreary November afternoon. The solid wooden doors were firmly closed against the heavy grey rain and a myriad of candles blazed against the darkness engendered by the storm outside. Severus had charmed them to burn for a long time and brightly enough for the boys and himself to read and work with ease. The little corner stove was burning merrily away sending out a steady stream of comforting warmth.

Harry and Aps – as he had come to be known, to Harry at least – were lying on the floor beside the stove, with the little dog that Severus could not resist bringing home for Harry one day when he’d found it wandering lost in the marketplace. Being with Harry was making him soft, Severus told himself ruefully; he couldn’t seem to resist spoiling the boy, showering him with presents, anything to help generate that sweet smile or the endearing blush that coloured Harry’s cheeks whenever Severus gave him anything.

Flea, who had been named for the infestation of little creatures that had plagued her when she arrived, was twitching in her sleep, dreaming of warmer weather perhaps? Harry was teaching Apisus to read and Severus, who was supposed to be researching, couldn’t help watching the boys instead. They had made a nest of cushions on the thickly woven rug and were lying quite closely together. Harry was patiently sounding out words and then writing them down clearly and carefully and encouraging Apisus to copy him. The shop was closed until eighth hour and they had finished lunch, a thick, hearty soup, a short while ago.

It was very pleasant indeed sitting and watching the boys and dozing to the muted sounds of the rain outside. Severus let his thoughts wander back to the few weeks, at the end of the summer, reliving the period when Apisus had arrived and Modia’s twins had been freed.

~~Flashback~~ 

Modia was delighted with Severus’ suggestion that he purchase the tavern slave-boy, though Thomas was less keen. He saw the young slave as a useful source of income and was loathe to let him go. But Modia persuaded him that Severus offered a far better price than the boy would fetch at auction and they would be able to afford a trained cook for the same money as Severus promised for the boy. The Slytherin in Severus knew he was offering considerably more than the boy was worth but, once he and Harry had made the decision to buy Apisus, Severus could not have borne it if they failed to rescue him. 

The few scenes he had witnessed of the boy’s life had haunted Severus since the night he had first noticed him at the tavern. The bruises and scars that Apisus wore were silent testimony to what the boy had suffered since being enslaved. But perhaps the worst part of it was the unconcerned acceptance that such casual brutality had been so casually visited upon the boy in the first place. Quite simply, nobody cared enough about him to trouble themselves over his injuries, whether they had been deliberate or not, or to take care of the wounds he had received

So, the deal made, Apisus duly arrived at the apothecary, nothing but skin and bone. He stood, trembling violently in front of Severus determinedly not looking at his new master and Severus had not been quite sure how to deal with someone quite as damaged as this child obviously was. He had seen children in Slytherin, before, who had been abused, it was part of his job as housemaster after all, none of them had been in this position though. What Apisus had been through was beyond imagining in Severus’ opinion.

He explained in a quiet and gentle voice that Harry would help clean him up and that he, Severus, would then heal his wounds. Apisus nodded but his eyes remained on the floor. Harry helped the boy wash away what seemed to be the accumulated filth of several years, allowing Severus to examine his body. While the boy was still agitated, his violent trembling had ceased.

Severus was shocked and appalled by the shear number of injuries from which Apisus was suffering. The boy was covered in bruises, sores and scars, not to mention an infestation of head lice. Fortunately Severus had several stock potions to deal with these conditions. But to deal with the poor young man’s anus, which was sickeningly and horribly sore and inflamed, he needed the discrete use of his wand and some powerful healing charms as well as the potions and salves he had used to heal Harry. Surprisingly and luckily, though, Apisus was mostly disease free, but from the evidence of the other suffering the boy had undergone, this was where his luck had run out.

 

Harry found Apisus a clean tunic from among those purchased for his Gryffindor slave by Severus on their recent shopping spree. The dark green colour suited Apisus’ auburn hair colouring almost as well as it suited Harry, though of course just about any colour suited Harry, with his dark hair and creamy skin; but green both emphasised Harry’s eyes and made Apisus look less sallow. So, completely without design on Severus’ part, he managed to dress his boys in matching apparel, something which it seemed his neighbours greatly approved of. 

 

***************

 

With clean working conditions and plenty of good food, Apisus’ wounds healed quickly, though his emotional healing would take longer. He was, unsurprisingly, petrified of men. He obeyed Severus’ every request as quickly as he could, but it was obvious that he was terrified. His terror was betrayed in every line of his body, in the cringes that he could not suppress whenever Severus went near him.

Severus learned to moderate his tone when speaking to the boy. Unfortunately this meant that he could not always hold back when he spoke to Harry and he frequently snapped at him or seared him with his sarcasm, but Harry didn’t seem to mind. He shrugged off Severus’ ill-humoured comments as if he were used to them, which of course he was. When he looked at Apisus, however, or spent any time with him, it was as if Severus underwent another paradigm shift. Terror made the young slave tongue-tied and clumsy and Severus wondered how many children he himself had condemned to stupidity with his vile temper and scathing words. 

Harry had given up on Potions because of his treatment of the boy. It was only now, after several months of teaching Harry to make potions, just the two of them, side by side, that Harry was beginning to show the true skill and talent Severus began to suspect had been there all along. A talent that Severus would have hotly denied when Harry was still his student. He refused to even think about the way he had treated Neville Longbottom.

As the days passed Harry’s help became even more invaluable. Under Harry’s patient tutelage, Apisus went about his duties with growing confidence. Although still somewhat scared of Severus, he blossomed in Harry’s company. Harry was kind to the young slave and infinitely patient with his numerous mistakes, demonstrating simple tasks time after time until there was no longer the need. Although it seemed to be ages before Apisus relaxed and started to try things on his own, eventually curiosity and confidence replaced the boy’s terror

~~End Flashback~~

A loud snort from Harry brought Severus out of his reverie. He smiled and stretched his legs out as he watched the boys together. Slowly, oh so slowly, the boy had begun to blossom under Harry’s care until on this rainy afternoon he was able to lie on the floor, relaxed and comfortable, giggling at Harry’s comments about an obnoxious customer whom Apisus had the misfortune of having to serve earlier that day.

He no longer flinched when Severus came close or moved unexpectedly. His skin no longer had the milky pallor it’d had when he’d arrived, his hair was glossy, he was not as scrawny and his eyes showed life and intelligence rather than dull acceptance of his fate.

These pleasant thoughts eventually brought Modia and her twins to mind and Severus couldn’t help but recall the events leading to the twins’ emancipation and Modia’s release from allegiance to Gaius Iulius Nocens. The patronage for Modia’s family and the freedom of her twins had been Severus’ price for acquiescing to Gaius Iulius’ desperate plea to help his son Devis. This had occurred almost a week after Severus had cast the _Memoriam Reflectus_ spell on the spoiled and selfish boy for his abortive assault and attempted rape of Harry. 

Severus was quite proud of that particular curse; it really had been the perfect one to use on that particular occasion and his expression turned into a smirk of pure satisfaction at the thought. 

He had created it when he was still at school in an effort to force James Potter to be less vicious towards him. It forced the victim of the charm to suffer the pain that they had inflicted on others, to relive it time after time. It had worked beautifully on James Potter. He had come to Severus begging to be released and after a day or two, and after making James suffer as long as possible, Severus had reluctantly agreed. 

In retrospect, however, the charm ended up being one of the reasons he had never truly forgiven James. The spell had, seemingly, given James Potter a conscience, which was what Severus believed had forced the man to rescue him from Lupin. Severus had always suspected that if he had never cast the curse on Harry’s father, then the spoiled young man would never have rescued him and he, in turn, would not have had to go through life owning his hated rival a life debt – one he could never repay. Of course, the fact that he might not have HAD a life to live was a thought the snarky Potions Master refused to contemplate.

The curse had also, obviously, had an impact on Devis Nocens. The odious boy’s Patrician father had come to Severus practically begging him to lift the mysterious curse that was attacking his son. As Severus continued to gaze at Harry and Apisus and the grey rain continued to fall, his mind once again drifted back to late summer. 

~~Flashback~~

Severus glanced up from the parchment he was examining as Gaius Iulius Nocens was shown into the study by an anxious looking Harry. Severus made a mental note to reassure the boy, as soon as the Patrician left, that nothing was about to happen to him. On the contrary, he had a very strong idea that the ‘great man’ was here to beg their assistance. Far from being his well groomed self, he looked a mess.

_“Please, please help Devis.”_ Iulius begged, his eyes rimmed with red and his usually pristine toga crumpled and soiled.

Severus remembered his fury at the treatment Harry had received at the hands of the spoiled young aristocrat. He was glad Devis was suffering; after all, the brat was only feeling the pain that he had inflicted on others. The boy had obviously caused more pain than Severus could have guessed at if he was still suffering such pain more than a week after Severus had spelled him. However, he could also feel pity for the man before him. Severus, himself a proud man, realised what it cost the similarly proud Patrician to come and beg the help of someone he would see as so far beneath him.

Once Severus had finally come to admit his love for the boy who shared his life, he had begun, also, to feel emotions previously denied him, emotions such as empathy. If this man cared for his son as much as Severus cared for Harry then his very obvious suffering was easy to understand. An idea began to form in Severus’ brain.

“ _I’ll help you,_ ” Severus replied carefully, causing the man to look up at him hopefully. “ _But I shall not do so for no fee._ ”

“ _Anything!_ ” the man whispered. “ _I’ll give you anything! No one has been able to help him! I have tried healers of renown, soothsayers, charlatans, though I am beginning to think that is what they all are! But no one has helped, no one has been able to help._

_“They say, in the forum, that you are a formidable apothecary, that you can make anyone well again, that there is nothing you cannot do with your medicines._

_“I know he wronged you. My son’s slave told me what happened here to your own slave, but he didn’t know, he didn’t realise. I beg forgiveness for him! If you know anything about what happened to my son, can you please make him well again, take the curse from him. Please!”_

~~End Flashback~~

Feeling a bit cramped Severus rose from his chair and with a smile at the two boys walked over to stare out the window.

He remembered how astonished he had been that Iulius realised it had been he who had hexed his son. He had, however, been even more amazed at the other man’s insistence that he was ‘well known in Rome’. Severus thought he and Harry had been keeping a low profile.

He had later found out that he was indeed infamous. Wizards were accepted in Rome, admired even. The division from the Muggle world had not yet happened; would not happen for hundreds of years. Severus knew this intellectually, but being confronted with the reality of it was quite a shock. Their little shop had become well known and well thought of and he had become respected without ever realising that it had happened. Once again his thoughts drifted into the past.

~~Flashback~~

Gaius Iulius Nocens was obviously in awe of him and Severus relished with great enjoyment the feeling of power that the awed respect of the Patrician was giving him. At the same time, he did not want to make anything too easy for the other man either - where would be the advantage in that, after all? The little idea he had was looking ever more likely to succeed.

Keeping these thoughts well hidden behind a sarcastic sneer, he asked, “ _Are you insinuating that I did something to your odious offspring?_”

Iulius dissembled then and stuttered his apologies, much to Severus’ satisfaction.

“ _No!_ ” Iulius had spluttered. “ _No, I did not mean to suggest anything of the kind, sir, but my son is an innocent and he is suffering; he did not know what he was doing. He not realise the power that you command – he did not know who he had wronged. Please help him?_ ”

“ _I think that your son has not been innocent for a very long time. He knew very well what he was doing, he just didn’t care,_ ” Severus told the broken man scathingly. “ _He hurt what is mine, and for that he deserved to suffer. The extent of his suffering is directly related to how much suffering he has inflicted on others. However, I will remove the curse if you agree to give me what I ask for._ ”

“ _Anything!_ ” Iulius repeated. “ _Whatever you want, have I not already said so?_ ”

This was the moment Severus had been waiting for; he proffered his little idea.

“ _I want you to transfer Modia and her family to my protection and I want you to free any of her children that you still own on the same basis; in essence, I want to become their Paterfamilias._ ”

Iulius was stunned; he sat, apparently frozen by shock, opening and closing his mouth like a large blond fish.

“ _I can pay you._ ” he finally managed, and in that moment Severus knew he had won. The man would indeed give him anything, there only remained the obligatory negotiating. 

It seemed Iulius was inordinately fond of ‘his’ redheaded boy, ‘his’ twin. Severus didn’t blame him; he would never give Harry up, not for anything. However, Iulius’ choice was between his slave and his son so, in the end, it truly wasn’t a choice at all. For Iulius to chose his slave over his son in Ancient Rome would destroy his own standing in the city. When Severus finally agreed to accompany Iulius back to his house, he accompanied a broken man.

They found Devis Iulius Nocens sitting on the floor, in a corner of a richly decorated room in Iulius Pater’s house. The house itself was enormous, filled with fine furniture and intricately worked mosaics. One of Modia’s red-headed twins was sitting close to Devis, holding him whilst he sobbed. The other twin looked up, relief showing plainly on his face as Severus and his master walked in. This twin looked as battered as Harry had when Severus had cursed Devis. 

_“Oh, Septimus!”_ Gaius Iulius whispered, his face turning a ghastly white. “ _What happened to you?_ He reached down and touched the boy’s cheek. The slave flinched, not in fear of his master but from the pain still present in his bruised face and blackened eye.

Severus realised, as he saw the boys closely for the first time, that Septimus must be the slave who belonged to Gaius Iulius, whilst the other boy was Devis’. Side by side, he could see that their differences were as pronounced as their similarities.

Severus felt touched by the tenderness he could see in Iulius towards his favourite. The young man had obviously been well cared for and it was plain Iulius was fond of his slave. The boy’s brother, on the other hand, did not seem so well off. They were identical, or should have been, but the boy cradling Devis was much thinner than his brother, paler, with dark circles under his eyes. His face was streaked with tear stains and he had a livid red scar running the length of one cheek.

Iulius walked over to his son and crouched down, whispering quietly to his son’s slave, whom Severus could hear was called Octavius. Devis was huddled against the boy, trembling and whimpering, whilst the slave crooned gently against his master’s neck.

Startled by whatever Iulius had said to him, Octavius looked fearfully over at Severus and his eyes filled with tears. But he nodded, stood and, taking his twin by the hand, came over to Severus as Iulius had commanded him.

It took Severus only a matter of seconds to lift the _Memoriam Reflectus_ spell. Looking amazed and slightly fearful, Iulius Nocens called another slave into the room and directed him to lead Devis away. 

The twins were unable to look at Severus, they held each other close and stared submissively at their feet instead. Severus experienced a wave of deep sadness as he noticed how scared the boys were. The skinnier of the two, the one with scars - because they both wore bruises -the one called Octavius, started to tremble violently. Septimus, the better cared for twin, put his arm around his terrified brother and just for a split second met Severus’ eye with a touch of defiance.

The boys followed Severus easily enough without a single word. It was Iulius who spoke, who halted Severus with a couple of words.

“ _Please, wait!_ ” he pleaded. “ _Can I ask you something?_ ”

Severus glanced back at Iulius feeling distinctly uncomfortable. The man looked dishevelled, unkempt and had a desperate look in his eyes that sent a chill down the Potions Master’s spine. His hand hovered close to Severus’ arm, not quite touching him but not able to move away.

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” Iulius had whispered. “ _You are right, about my son, he has not always been kind. My boy has suffered, his brother, too. Devis does not deserve to own anyone, not the way he has behaved. I know I shouldn’t ask, I know I shouldn’t – but, please, what will you do with my…with the boys?”_

The man seemed close to collapsing. Severus felt sympathy for the proud Patrician – that haunted look in his eyes was all too familiar.

“ _They’ll be fine. Modia is my friend and she is getting married. I thought their freedom would be a perfect wedding gift for her._ ”

Iulius looked mollified, hopeful. “ _There will be a shop premises available soon; the flint seller will be… erm… moving on. Septimus likes making toys. He would like a shop, I think; it could be his, if he wanted it._ ”

Septimus was staring at his erstwhile master with tears in his eyes. Both slaves looked totally confused about what was happening, though Severus knew they must have heard him explain the situation to Iulius. He needed to get them away, back to their mother.

“ _I’ll look into it._ ” Severus assured the saddened Roman, at the same time taking the hand of the twin who was closest to him and leading the boys from the room.

“ _Can I see him sometime?_ ” the melancholy voice floated after them.

Severus didn’t speak, he just half turned and nodded once, curtly, and then took the boys home.

~~End Flashback~~

The rain seemed to be decreasing and a ray of sunlight broke through the grey ceiling of clouds but the room felt chilled. Severus glanced at his boys and he chuckled. They were curled in each others arms and fast asleep, with Flea cuddled between them. He knew he should get back to work – but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He put more wood in the little stove and returned to settle back in his chair, letting his thoughts turn to Apisus, Modia and the twins once again.

Severus remembered bringing Apisus home only a few days after he and Harry had discussed the possibility and two market days* before Thomas and Modia’s wedding – so that he could help with the preparations and, despite his fear and need to adjust to his new circumstances, he had done just that. The wedding itself had taken place in their courtyard since Severus now stood in the role of Paterfamilias; which also explained how Severus had been talked into actually acting ‘Paterfamilias’ for Modia at the wedding – she was far too old to be given away by her father as was the tradition in Rome; besides which, Modia’s father was almost certainly still a slave so he had not really been an option, even if she had known who her father was and where he might be or even if he were still alive, come to that. 

~~Flashback~~

Modia sobbed for hours upon the presentation to her of her sons, freed from slavery, by the Potions Master as his wedding gift. Severus had never even seen her cry before. The boys had cried, too, along with Virginia, Hermia, Harry, and even Rufus.

At first the twins were inseparable from each other and exhibited a great deal of uncertainty, wariness and outright confusion over their newly liberated state. However, with the help and support of a loving family and friends they soon accepted their good fortune and settled in quickly enough; though Severus suspected that Septimus missed his master.

Septimus loved his ex-master, whilst Octavius was terrified of his. In the last seven days of their slavery, Devis had gone mad and the twins had bourn the brunt of his insanity. Both wore the bruises that Devis had given them as testimony to his recent tantrums resulting from the curse. Octavius’ scars, however, were older, indicating he had suffered severe punishments over a much longer period of time.

All three of the boys had been damaged, each in their own way. They were all like children, seemingly much younger than their actual age. Slavery did that. It took away choices (not that a slave had any to begin with) and left a person with no control whatsoever over their lives. 

Harry was helping the twins settle in, Severus having agreed to put them up temporarily until the shop across the way was free for them to move in, when it came to Severus’ notice that Apisus was nowhere in sight. After a careful search he found the boy cowering in a dark, shadowy corner. Although it took some time and patience, Severus finally wormed it out of the frightened young man that he thought the arrival of Septimus and Octavius meant he would have to leave and return to the tavern. After reassuring Apisus this was not the case, he shooed him away to help Harry prepare food for them all. After dinner Severus gave the twins their manumission papers and they sat and talked for hours.

 

************** 

 

With all the preparations and activities for the marriage, the next two weeks seemed to fly by. All the women could talk about were clothes and colours and flowers and food and drink and guests – when Harry and Apisus were happily roped in (Aps being assured by Harry that he would not be returned to Thomas), Severus fled to his workshop and refused to come out until all talk of ‘the wedding’ was done for the day.

Even the twins got caught up in the party spirit and helped Harry and Apisus make two ‘wedding stools’, on which the bride and groom would sit, from a battered Oakwood table that usually occupied a place in the front of the shop.

Three days before the big event Harry started the process of cleaning and cooking. In this Apisus proved to be a big help to him. Even though still somewhat skittish and shy, under the caring treatment of Severus and Harry, he was proving himself to be a hard and competent worker. 

 

Finally the great day dawned and Modia sparkled like starlight. She was dressed in a traditional, simple, white shift with a silken belt tied with “the knot of Hercules”. She wore a saffron veil and held a bouquet of flowers she had gathered herself in the garden that morning. More flowers were woven in her hair and she looked young and fresh and happy.

Thomas was also tidied up and looking his best, thanks to the ministrations of Hermia and Virginia. He was not an educated man, and Severus thought that he was not good enough for Modia, but she seemed happy and he truly seemed to adore her. The innkeeper seemed to be blossoming under Modia, her daughter and daughter-in-law’s tender care. He was scrubbed clean and his hair was neatly trimmed; he wore a neat white tunic and a pleased, possessive smile, and he strode around the garden expansively as if the fine house and shop belonged to him and not to Severus.

The courtyard was full of Modia and Thomas’ family, friends and neighbours, who mingled together, wandering in and out of the peristyle garden and the large airy rooms. This pre-ceremony gathering would not last long, much to Severus’ relief as he hated being surrounded by people. Harry was explaining that for the wedding to be legal there had to be at least ten witnesses present before, during and after the ceremony. Glancing around at the multitude of bodies stuffed into his courtyard, Severus glumly acknowledged that, in this case, it would not be an issue. Giving him a stern glare, Harry told him he had to behave and that he was not allowed to scowl at people and then sent him off to mingle. Doing his best to comply, Severus, was nevertheless, hugely relieved when Harry rang the bell signifying the start of the ceremony, as his jaw was aching from trying to smile. 

The bride and groom were led forward by Hermia and Rufus to stand before the tiny man acting as priest. They held hands and Modia blushed, shyly. The joy that suffused Modia’s face, upon seeing her sons as freemen at her wedding, would remain forever etched in Severus’ memory (and made the temporary intrusion of two extra people in his home seem almost endurable.)

According to tradition she had to consent to the marriage during the wedding ceremony, this time by saying words of consent in public. 

_"Quando tu Gaius, ego Gaia."_ Modia said, speaking the traditional words with a slight tremor in her voice. 

Severus reminded himself that this was her first wedding, an occasion that she had surely thought never to be a part of. As a slave she had not been married, had never thought to be married, and he could not help feeling touched by the quiet joy which suffused her being. 

After the words of consent, the bride and groom sat on stools, facing the makeshift altar. It was draped with a rich purple cloth and garlanded with colourful flowers. An offering was made to the god Jupiter, which Severus was relieved to learn consisted of cake and that no slaughter of small animals needed to take place. The offering cake was lemon (and Severus chuckled to himself as he wondered if Jupiter liked lemon), made by Harry especially for the occasion as lemon cakes were Modia’s favourites. 

The priest made the offering, the cake was eaten by the bride and groom and then shared with the guests and suddenly the ceremony was complete. After the dinner party, which followed immediately upon completion of the ceremony, and as was tradition, the groom escorted the bride to her new home. The procession through the streets and alleyways was essential to the validity of the marriage, or so Modia had said – it could not be omitted. Severus suspected as he watched the parade that it had become such a strong tradition because people enjoyed it so much. Anyone could join the procession, and many people did, most of them unknown to Severus, many of them probably equally unknown to Modia and Thomas. But Modia’s happiness was palpable, people wanted some of her reflected glory, wanted to join the procession and be part of the occasion. 

Rufus played a drum and a boy that Severus didn’t know played a flute. The twins took turns carrying a ‘marriage torch’ which had been lit at her house and kept burning as a flame in Severus’ home. Modia would now use the torch to light a fire which had been laid in the hearth at the inn, signifying the warmth that Modia would bring to the marriage. Severus knew that the wood had been laid and the fire prepared because Harry had been the one to do it, Apisus was still too terrified to return to the place where he had suffered for so long, and Severus just hadn’t had the heart to force him.

Virginia and Hermia walked at the front of the crowd scattering flower-petals, nuts and fruit. Finally the procession reached the inn. Modia once more recited the chant she had spoken earlier in front of the priest and with much hilarity, and no shortage of ribald comments from the crowd, the short, bowlegged innkeeper had hoisted his rather curvy new wife into his arms and carried her over the threshold. The couple were followed into their new marital home by only their closest friends and family who witnessed Modia light the wood in the hearth and then cheered loudly as Thomas led his bride up the steep wooden staircase.

The inn had not closed that day, and would not the whole of the coming night either. Once Modia and Thomas were out of sight, Modia’s sons threw open the doors and busied themselves serving wine and the food left over from the wedding dinner. The party went on till dawn.

~~End Flashback~~ 

Severus took a long drink of the mulled wine Harry had made and left beside his chair, then tried to convince himself to go back to his research. With a deep sigh he decided he was just too comfortable and, besides, he had nothing of extreme importance awaiting him anyway.

He smiled as he remembered the afternoon following the wedding party’s departure. Severus had closed and barred the door to the shop and taken Harry to bed. How leisurely their lovemaking had been and how the scent of crushed flower petals had lingered for hours after they had been scattered.

The wedding also marked the date Iulius started trying hard to befriend Severus, no doubt feeling he owed the wizard a lot for taking care of his slave, and his son. The best part had been when Iulius had exhorted Severus to use his extensive library; being no kind of fool, Severus had graciously taken him up on the offer. The more data he had at his disposal the better the chance of finding a clue to getting home.

Severus ruthlessly tamped down another prickly qualm of conscience about said research and went back to his daydreaming. 

Marcus the flint seller had packed up and closed his shop the day after Modia’s wedding, just as Iulius had hinted he would. Severus snorted softly as he remembered the frenzied excitement accompanying this turn of events, followed by several days of frenetic energy and activity as the twins moved in and proceeded to set up their toy shop. Both of them, it seemed, had skill with making toys and little novelty items, as well as excellent heads for business. And now, a mere three months later, they were selling items from all over the Roman world: Ivory from Africa, carvings from Hispania, and even strange and wonderful things from beyond the Empire. 

Iulius, of course, had been a regular visitor to the shop, almost from the start. And most peculiar it was, too, to see the fine Patrician regularly haunting the alleyways, seeking the company of a simple redheaded freedman. 

It had taken longer for Iulius minor to follow his father and seek out his own former slave. The spell that Severus had cast had changed the boy beyond all recognition. It had broken him down, humbled him. Octavius’ slow acceptance of his former master had helped Devis recover, even to the point where he had apologised to Harry.

Severus shifted in his chair as his thoughts perversely returned to his abandoned research. Access to Iulius’ library had greatly improved Severus’ knowledge and understanding of the time in which they were living. From his research he believed that magic was innate in the populous, but at a very low level. Severus wondered what had brought about the increase in magic in wizards and the lack of it in Muggles and squibs. He suspected some of the legends of gods and goddesses were truly about wizards, while Cicero seemed to be nothing more than a good orator rather than the wizard he was rumoured to be. He speculated that some sort of catalyst must have started things off, increased magic exponentially in some members of the population; the question was ‘when’ had it happened, possibly not for many hundreds of years.

His musings were shattered by a loud and frantic thumping at the front doors. Roused by the noise, Harry sleepily stumbled out to answer it. Glancing at the water clock Severus saw that it was eighth hour and time for them to reopen. Undoubtedly it was an irate customer pounding on the door.

Harry, wide-eyed and slightly panicked, came rushing back into the room only seconds later. “ _Domine,_ ” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “ _It’s Rufus at the door, we must go quickly. Hermia has gone into labour but things are not going well and she is losing a lot of blood. They need us, Domine, they need us to help.”_

 

**********

 

The wine shop was crowded with people, Iulius was there and Devis, Modia’s twins and Thomas the innkeeper. Severus sat Apisus and Harry down beside Octavius and told them to wait while he went through to the back room to see the girl.

The bed that Hermia was lying on was swamped with blood, her life-blood. The cramped little space smelt of fear, and death and despair. The girl was lying still, not moving, curled in upon herself; she had given up it seemed and Severus wondered how long she had been in labour.

Modia sat beside her, features pale and drawn thinner with worry.

_“Why didn’t you call me before now?”_ Severus demanded as soon as he saw her.

Modia was desperately soothing the girl who started to weep weakly and clutch at her husband’s hand. Virginia was holding a small bundle which was mewling softly. 

“ _It happened so rapidly,_ ” Modia said. “ _The babe came after quite a long labour. Hermia was exhausted and we thought she could rest but then we saw that there was another baby and Hermia started to bleed. We couldn’t stop it and the baby is stuck, but Hermia has no strength left. She has laboured for hours but she can do no more. We might lose them both. Help her, Severus._ ”

“ _I’ll try._ ”

Severus was not a healer, he had no experience of childbirth and had never delivered a child but it was obvious he was Hermia’s only chance. There were others who could help, doctors of a sort, but the girl was fading fast and there was probably not time to find one. Midwives were more common, but some of them were little more than local gossips who would know less about childbirth than Modia did and care not a bit about Hermia or her child.

Calling Harry to him, he explained what he needed and sent Harry to retrieve the potions. Apisus was rapidly learning to read, but his literary skills were not very reliable yet. Whilst Harry was gone Severus took out his wand, casting _Scourgify_ on himself and the girl; he had to sterilize the area and ensure that he was sterile too. He was surprised to realise that he no longer worried about anyone in the room witnessing him performing magic, he trusted them. Carefully he examined Hermia. The girl was indeed exhausted and the second baby was breech. When he performed the examination he could feel the baby’s feet; the baby was still alive because it wriggled its tiny toes.

Severus sighed deeply. As far as he could see, he had two options: he could either somehow perform a caesarean, rumoured to be named for the great Julius himself, or he could give Hermia some potions to revive her energy and help her to give birth.

“ _I tried to turn it,_ ” Modia said, her voice tinged with desperation, “ _but I think it’s too late. It’s determined to come out with its feet on the land. But she is so weak, Severus. The first babe was a hard labour, she has been pushing since before dawn. My babies always came out easy, but her hips are narrow and she grows very frail._ ”

Hermia was indeed fading fast, her face was pale with exhaustion, her forehead soaked with sweat, and the baby’s foot seemed rather too far down the birth canal for a caesarean to be performed, especially by someone who was not a surgeon and who had a very sketchy idea of anatomy. 

“ _You have done well so far, Modia,_ ” Severus said. He had no idea whether she had or not, but she seemed beside herself with anxiety and he needed her calm. He wondered how far a potion would energise the girl and whether one would help Modia, who was almost as exhausted as her charge.

Thankfully at that moment Harry returned. He had all the potions that Severus had asked for and a selection of others. Without having to be told he administered the Blood Replenishing Potion and the Pepper-up Potion to Hermia. He lifted her gently so that she was sitting up. Her head lolled on Harry’s shoulder and he gently tipped each bottle so that the girl could easily drink.

Severus looked down at the basket full of bottles and saw there were several containing just the potions that Severus required, Harry uncorked a vial and handed it to Modia. She looked at him, eyes wide, swallowing it easily enough when Severus nodded.

“ _Oh Vesta!_ ” Hermia screamed. Her scream was high-pitched, agonised. Severus’ hand was on her abdomen and he felt the violent seizure of the contraction. Rufus groaned as his young wife clutched at his hand and screamed again.

The potions seemed to have revived her a little and she began to rally, she released Rufus’ hand and then pushed herself up on her elbows, panting hard.

For the next wee while Hermia pushed whenever a contraction came, desperately trying to bring her baby in to the world. The afternoon advanced and full darkness came, but the child still was not born and Hermia began to weaken again. This time her exhaustion seemed much deeper. She moved less and did not clutch at her husband, she was giving up. All the while Severus and Harry tried to help. They soothed her, stroked her head, held her, supported her and gave her potions to help build stamina and dull pain. But at last she could give no more it seemed. Her strength failing totally, she fell back against her pillows barely breathing at all.

The other baby was wailing, a thin reedy cry, easily audible in the room next door and Severus realised that he did not even know what sex it was. How would it survive without its mother? They hadn’t lost Hermia yet, but she was fading very rapidly this time.

He thought one of the twins must have the baby as Modia and Virginia were still in the room. It was unusual in these times for men to attend a birth. The father was sometimes in attendance, but not always. Even he and Harry, in attendance as male healers, were unusual (though neither of them had any true capacity for healing, at least as far as Severus knew). 

Normally some sort of midwife would be in attendance. Not that there would be many around who had the experience that Modia did. She had seven living children, that Severus knew of, and if one took into account the names of the twins, she had given birth to at least nine. She was well known in the district, and well respected, but she mostly kept to herself. Severus realised he and Harry had been extremely lucky to be taken under her wing. Perhaps there had simply been no other females that she wanted to trust with the birth. Severus couldn’t help wishing that there had been, then, perhaps, they would not be in the predicament that they were in right now. Oh what he wouldn’t give right now to have access to a true healer like Poppy Pomfrey.

 

Rufus sat beside his wife, his face etched with despair and Severus realised with a pang that they were just children themselves, really. Children who had suffered so much already, with the loss of their son two years before. To lose his wife now would destroy this young man, but Hermia could do no more. She had been in so much pain, she didn’t even have the energy left to weep.

“ _Come on sweetheart,_ ” Modia whispered, tenderly stroking the girl’s hair. “ _You’re doing so well, lovely. You have to get the babe out, I know you are tired, but you need to push for a little longer. Please, Hermia, you’re going to be all right, we’ll look after you._ ”

Severus felt a flash of irritation, just for a second. They couldn’t promise her that. She seemed so frail and Severus didn’t think the potions were going to be enough. She had lost too much blood, she was weak and tired and she was a Muggle. The potions that Severus brewed did work to a certain extent, in fact, they worked very well. But with a magical person they worked even better. They stimulated the person’s own magic and created a strong healing reaction, but they could have no such effect on Hermia.

Finally, the increasingly fragile Hermia met his eyes, her own eyes were full of despair and sadness. Slowly, she smiled. It was such a fragile smile, like hand spun glass. It was a goodbye.

“ _NO!_ ” Severus shouted, making everyone jump in shock. “ _You will not give up! We cannot lose you. I can not lose you! _

_“Harry, come here,_ ” Severus said sharply. Harry had been mopping Hermia’s forehead, he looked up startled. “ _Quickly!_ ”

Harry relinquished his place behind the girl and rushed over to Severus’ side. He grabbed the boy firmly by the upper arm and dragged him to the corner of the room.

The sobbing across the room intensified and a soft crooning sound drifted over. Hermia was fading fast. Severus had assumed that because Rufus had no tongue he made no sound, but it seemed he could still sing. He had climbed on the bed beside the dying girl, cradled her head in his lap and was gently stroking her hair, singing what sounded like a lullaby, large, fat tears streaming down his cheeks.

Severus thought of the feisty young matron who had become such a part of their lives, the way she had teased Harry all those months before, encouraging him to come to Severus. Without her, Harry might never have plucked up the courage to approach him. He thought of her sad face when she had told Harry about the loss of her child, her laughing brown eyes on the day of Modia’s wedding. Severus was filled with dread at the thought they might lose her.

However, in the end, it would not be up to him; it would be up to Harry.

“ _Harry, I need you to help me._ ” 

Severus thought of Harry living all these months without magic hardly at all, apart from the odd lesson, he needed him to access it again now. When the spring came and Apisus was more settled, Severus had planned to start teaching Harry magic properly again. All these months  
Harry thought he hadn’t been using magic, but in actuality, Severus knew he had been, without even being aware of it. Apisus had healed far more rapidly than Severus’ potions could account for, the food that Harry made did not decay as rapidly as it should, the house stayed cleaner, the shop was always full, and they seemed to have phenomenal luck in everything they did. Yes, Severus thought, Harry was using magic almost constantly in tiny amounts and he had no idea at all. 

Severus had often wondered what had attracted so many people to their shop so often, almost as if it were enchanted. He now realised that, denied a wand, Harry had been using his magic in other ways, almost as sympathetic magic. He had been making his life and Severus’, and probably Apisus’, lives better without even realising what he was doing. Harry’s magic had found a way to help him despite being denied a wand.

Harry’s magic was strong and it was pure. The boy, still innocent in many ways, had not yet killed anyone or hurt anyone deliberately. Knowing the boy as he did now, Severus doubted that he ever would or could. They needed strong, pure magic to help Hermia and that meant Harry’s magic.

“ _Hermia is exhausted, she needs energy, strength, she needs your magic, Harry,_ ” he explained to the boy. “ _If she can just last a little longer the baby will be born, the birth is so close._ ”

“ _But I’ve barely used magic for months._ ”

“ _You may not have only just started using your wand, Harry, but you have been using magic ever since we arrived._ ”

“ _No, I haven’t!_ ” Harry exclaimed.

“ _Harry, I think you have been using it, not deliberately, not even realising it. Making things happen, making things easier, without even knowing that you were doing it._ ”

“ _Do you really think I’ve been doing that? All this time, without realising it?”_

“ _I do, Harry._ ”

“ _Erm…okay then, what do I have to do?_ ” 

“ _You have to channel your magic. There is no spell for this and Enervate will only work on a wizard. Hermia possibly has the same magic levels as a squib, but we could energise her. You could energise her, Harry._ ” 

“ _Alright, I think I understand, but how?_ ” Harry said.

Severus was a very particular man. He knew exactly how much comfrey went into a healing potion, how much Unicorn hair, how many dragon scales. He liked everything to be measured, correct. But Harry was not like that, Harry was much more about the un-measurable. If Severus was reason and rationality then Harry was heart and emotion. The possibility that Harry could control his magic enough to help Hermia was really all they could do to save the girl. She was too weak now, even for a caesarean, the baby was definitely too far down the birth canal. If Hermia had been too weak earlier she definitely wouldn’t survive the operation at this stage.

_“You have to touch her,_ ” Severus said. “ _You have to feel the magic inside yourself and you have to slowly but steadily release it. You have to let it flow into Hermia, share it with her. Do you think you can do that Harry?_ ”

The boy just nodded and turned to go back to Hermia’s side. Severus grabbed him and pulled him back. 

“ _Do you realise what I have asked of you? I have asked you to share your magic._ ”

“ _I know,_ ” Harry whispered. “ _I know, Domine. But if I don’t do this, she is going to die. So I am going to do it._ ” 

Severus shuddered, a part of him wanting to call the boy back, wishing he had not suggested such a thing. He knew that Harry would react like this. How could he not? Yet sharing magic just was not done. It was the very essence of self, the deepest most private part of oneself. A mother might do it to save her child and he knew that he would do it without a qualm to save Harry. But Hermia was almost a stranger to them, she was not even magical.

He opened his mouth to call Harry back, to tell him they would try something else, but no sound emerged; it was already too late anyway. Harry was back at the bed sitting beside Hermia. He looked down at her and smiled at her, then he lifted his hand and stroked the girl’s damp hair out of her eyes. He lifted her up so that he could hold her close and smiled at her.

“ _I’m going to help you, Hermia. I am going to give you some of my magic and it will help you be stronger. It’ll help you get the baby out, all right?_ ” 

Harry sounded so young, so uncertain. Focussing all of his attention on the girl, he didn’t seem to notice anyone else or their reactions, but Severus did. Rufus was staring at Harry, seemingly uncertain what to make of the statement. Modia had stiffened with shock, her surprised brown eyes met Severus’ own in question. Suddenly the whole room exploded in light and Severus was blown off his feet.

 

**********

 

It was much later – when both her new grandchildren were safely bundled up against the winter cold, well fed and recovering from their traumatic entrance into the world, and with Hermia healed, cleaned and settled in the newly remade bed, with her husband sleeping beside her – that Modia came to talk to him.

“ _Is your magic as strong as Harry’s, Severus? No, don’t answer that. I suppose that it would have to be, you are his master after all. I… I have never seen anything like that, felt anything like that before. I have seen spells and healings and things, but I have never…!_” She had obviously run out of things to say.

“ _Harry is very powerful, but he has not really used his magic much since we arrived. That is why there was such a build up of power, I think._ ” Severus smiled dryly. “ _Harry never does anything by halves. He always tends to be a little bit overenthusiastic. The combination of those two things was obviously, well… explosive._”

“ _So I noticed. What happened?_ ”

“ _The only way I could think of to help Hermia was to suffuse her with magical energy. But because of the baby, because it was such a delicate situation, my magic would not have been suited. It is too Dark; I have done too much, seen too much. It had to be Harry._”

“ _Does that often happen?_ ” Modia, gestured around her at the tidied up devastation. Chairs had been righted again, broken glass swept up. Harry had shamefacedly done his best to help and probably did most of the work in the end. Severus thought ruefully that they would not have to hide their magic from Apisus after all, or from any members of Modia’s family ever again.

“ _Only when Harry looses control, so, yes, it does seem to happen with remarkable frequency,_ ” Severus smirked with amusement. “ _Seriously though, it was not meant to be as powerful as that. There should have been a gentle glow of magical energy and Hermia should have been revived._ ” Severus’ smile was rueful this time. “ _And none of us should have ended up unconscious!_ ”

“ _What Harry did, without it Hermia and my grandson would not have survived? She would never have been strong enough to complete the birth, would she?_ ”

Suffering a splitting headache from Harry’s explosion of magic and being so near exhaustion himself, Severus could only summon enough energy to nod his head, acknowledging the truth of her statement.

“ _Then I truly don’t care. I don’t care that Harry blew up my house, that I have the worst headache of my entire life or that my fingers and toes are still tingling._ ” She gave him a look that seemed rather pointed. “ _Since you came here, Severus, you and Harry you have made our lives so much better. You have freed my sons, become my Paterfamilias and helped me marry Thomas. Between you, you and Harry you saved my grandchild and my Hermia, who is like a daughter to me. I will never, ever be able to thank you enough._ ”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “ _Thank you, Severus. Now I think you should take Harry and go home._ ”

Both of them looked over to the sleeping boy. Harry was curled up in his kittenish way on a long, low, padded bench in the corner of the workshop. The poor boy was completely exhausted at having expended so much magic. Having grown slightly and filled out nicely in the nine months since they had arrived, Harry no longer looked like a boy, but like the mature young man he was. But he still felt wonderful when Severus lifted him in his arms. Still fast asleep, he buried his face in Severus’ shoulder and wrapped his arm around Severus’ neck, then snuggled in closer still as Severus carried him back to their home. 

 

*****************


	7. chapter seven

Chapter seven - in which Severus makes an important discovery.

 

Chapter seven

 

Severus found himself in a dreadful quandary. He had finally, after four years of research and experimentation, found a way to take them back to their own time. The only problem was – he didn’t want to go, he really didn’t want to go – and he didn’t know what to do about it.

When he had become aware, about a week ago, that the last step, the final illusive solution to his dilemma was at hand, it had been with great reluctance that he had made the final calculations necessary to complete that process. He had checked, double checked, and triple checked his research, just to be sure. 

He had managed to accomplish what had never been done before. There were time-turners and there were portkeys, but Severus had combined the two - and now, a week later, here it was staring him in the face – a temporal portkey device, or _Crux Temporis_ as he called it. All he and Harry had to do was hold on and say the words of the spell and they would be transported back to 20th century Rome; but with all his heart and soul, Severus didn’t want to go. At some point in the last four years this little corner of Rome had become more than a bolt-hole or a safe place to stay. It had become home. 

Over the years there had been many times that the potion had failed, or else the dratted spell had fallen apart, and a myriad of other things had gone wrong, but he had never given up. He had promised Harry, sworn that he would never stop looking for a way to take them back. Harry was prophesied to rid the world of Voldemort, even if that world did not really feel like their world any longer. Severus knew that his lover needed to fulfil that destiny, he was the essence of a true hero and he felt the weight of that responsibility every day. He could no more turn his back on the people of that time than he could stop breathing.

Severus decided to go back over the entire magical journey once more before finding and telling Harry. Maybe he would get lucky and find a fatal flaw? He had made some notes for his own research, and planned to either take them with him or destroy them. It would not do for the information that he had compiled to fall into the wrong hands. But his notes helped him think. He picked up the parchment, which was covered in his spidery handwriting and began to read and annotate.

**‘The Theory of Sympathetic Magic,’** detailed Severus’ research in minute detail. It described how the real breakthrough had occurred six months after they had arrived in ancient Rome, when Iulius had opened his library for Severus’ use. According to a number of books that he had found in the Patrician’s extensive library, objects became ‘sympathised’ to the time and place they had been acquired, both by frequent handling and close proximity to the people of that time period and place. The books were based on magical theories developed by Greek philosophers, who may also have been wizards, such as Archimedes, Socrates and others. The magical theories they extolled seemed thoroughly examined and plausible to Severus. He was certain that a number of these books on magical theory could well have provided the basis for most of the volumes sitting on his own library shelves and for hundreds more that he had read in his many years of study. Those ancient philosophers certainly seemed to understand sympathetic magic, whether or not they were wizards themselves.

Assuming that the great philosophers were right, Severus hypothesized that he had to combine specific objects and a specific potion to effectively create a hybrid time-turner/portkey. Individually none of the items would have been sufficient but together they would interact, creating a powerful sympathetic magic – and in conjunction with a time spell would be the catalyst to return them to their own time. 

He made a few adjustments to his notes, added some authors who had not been included and removed one who was a complete imbecile and should never have been listed in the first place.

The notes on the Tempus Potion detailed how he had combined two potions. The potion to make a portkey was a simple enough one. The potion to make a time-turner was infinitely more complex but not above Severus’ ability. However, the task facing Severus at this point was to adapt these two different potions to create one – the Tempus Potion, as he had decided to call it.

Some people might speculate that this task would be an easy one for a Potions Master of his innate ability. In truth it took another backbreaking year and a half to complete a successful potion. Years composed of copious research and study, hundreds of experimental cauldrons of potions, and of failure after failure.

But Severus was confident of his skill and never lacked patience when it came to brewing. He finally found just the right combination of ingredients and with several days of careful testing, adding precisely the right ingredients at exactly the right time, the Tempus Potion was perfected… or so he believed. 

The notes detailed how, with the research done and the potion created, he’d had to find a spell, or, in truth, invent one, using words that would most closely match the magical properties of the Tempus Potion.

He’d decided to name the spell Tempus Fugit Praeterhac. The commonly known spell ‘Tempus Fugit’, meaning something like “time flies”, and used by housewives to speed their cooking, or by eager teenagers keen to appear more grown up was the basis for his research. He vaguely remembered the Weasley twins using a variation in a failed attempt to foil the Goblet of Fire during the Tri-Wizard Tournament in Harry’s fourth year. 

But the spell was not nearly complex enough for Severus’ needs. It had taken nearly another two years to perfect it. Two years of studious research, calculation and experimentation until Severus reached the point where he considered it powerful enough, when used in conjunction with the Tempus Potion, to probably, possibly, hopefully take them back to their own time.

Finally he added the final word, Praeterhac, an adverb meaning, ‘further’ or ‘beyond this point,’ which he wove into the complex structure of the spell and it was complete. 

For a long time, Severus had reached a stalemate in his work. Even though he’d created the spell and developed the potion, it was obvious that he lacked an essential element. He had no way of linking them to the right moment, returning them to the time that they had left, the one day in all the thousands of days in the years between this time and their own. 

 

The problem was, he still needed an object to use the potion on - the _Crux Temporis_. He often tried simple tests using the potion with an hourglass and other objects he and Harry frequently handled, sympathetic to their touch. Of course, these were always performed out of sight of anyone in his lab. The use of a local hourglass was not sufficient. It had always failed.

Failure stared him in the face and, in his secret heart of hearts, he rejoiced.

That is, until a week ago – till that fateful day Harry had innocently shown him the remaining contents of the rucksack, contents he had not noticed before. 

Harry and Apisus had been spring cleaning and they had found the rucksack abandoned under their bed and Harry had wanted to share it with Apisus and with Severus’ himself.

Inside was a pouch that Severus had never noticed before, which included a variety of strange things including a snitch, a bit of broken mirror and Harry’s broken wand. Severus had known that it was broken. Harry had been using the wand that had once belonged to Draco Malfoy whenever they practiced magic. The other wand had belonged to Bellatrix and Severus had insisted that they destroy it as it was far too full of Dark magic. 

Harry had stood wistfully for a moment, looking at his things and then he had bundled them away. It had seemed such a sad little collection of things for Harry to keep and Severus had wanted to hug him and ask him about them.

Harry had returned them all to the pouch though, which he tucked inside the rucksack and instead produced several things that he had bought in 20th century Muggle Rome. Instantly Severus saw the significance of this and the possibilities. There were some sunglasses, sun cream, a little model of a Centurion that had apparently been purchased from a stall just outside the Colisseum and a small Italian flag. Severus carefully removed the rucksack from Harry’s hands before the boy could reach to retrieve them.

It was the beginning of the end… the end of his years of research, the end of their time in Rome, possibly the end… but no, he wouldn’t think of that, not yet. 

He’d had no real hope, at all, that he could succeed, until Harry had shown him the contents of his rucksack. They had lain untouched - modern day items in a modern day rucksack – for almost four years.

Severus had been very careful not to touch them with his bare hands, nor had he allowed anyone else to either. Instead he had forged a pair of tongs especially made from some of the silver Sickles they had brought with them. Sickles which, along with a handful of Knuts, had also remained untouched at the bottom of Harry’s rucksack. They had not been needed thanks to the gold Galleons Harry had brought with him, and the money they had made since, all proving more than sufficient for their needs. 

Severus speculated that his potion was not quite as complete as he’d thought it. These objects, infused with the sympathetic essence of the time and place they had come from, when added to the Tempus Potion, would be absorbed, infusing it with enough sympathetic essence to enable the _Crux Temporis_ to transport them home. He was especially pleased with the sun cream because it bore an expiry date (which should produce the right ‘era’ essence) and the Centurion that seemed to have been handmade locally just outside Rome (which should produce the right ‘locale’ essence). The glasses and the flag were cheap and commonplace and had probably been made elsewhere, but Severus thought they may well have been in Rome long enough to add to the potion, having absorbed something of the essence of their time. 

However, the major stumbling block of what to use as the _Crux Temporis_ still remained. Severus knew he needed a substantial, 20th century item, time sensitive enough to absorb the newly infused Tempus Potion in order to create the _Crux Temporis_. He could foresee no solution to this dilemma. He assembled the precious objects and created a stasis spell to protect them against time contamination from their present environment until such time as this problem could be solved. 

And what if he did solve his problem? What was the guarantee they would arrive at exactly the time and place they had disappeared from? There wasn’t any! What if they arrived in some other place or even days or weeks earlier or later? Harry was still in danger in their own time. Death Eaters were hunting him, as was the Ministry of Magic. No one but Severus had tracked him to Rome, at least not at the time they’d left, so it would probably be safe to return to exactly when and where they had been. Granger and Weasley should be there. But anywhere else and Harry could be in danger, especially as they were likely to be weakened by the journey through time. 

**The Wrist Watch**

Severus had underlined that several times in his notes, it really had been the final ingredient. He had been totally stuck - there had just been too many imponderables. For several days he had prevaricated, finally deciding to tell Harry that he did not think they could proceed, secretly delighted to have a reason to call off the research. He carefully outlined the process to the point where he was stymied. He had no viable object from the future to use as the _Crux Temporis._

And it was here the bomb exploded, the hammer fell, the impossible became the possible. Harry surprised him one more time; he had not even tried to suppress the growl when the dratted boy pulled a broken Muggle digital watch from a pocket in that infernal rucksack. He had found his time-turner portkey.

The watch had been the perfect solution. Not only had it been purchased in Rome, apparently from a small backstreet shop where - judging from the slight discolouration on the strap - it had laid for some considerable length of time, but it had stopped at the exact time, on the exact date that they had been sent backwards in time.

The use of the watch, together with the things that Harry had brought with him meant that there was a very strong chance that the spell would indeed do what they wanted it to do. Not that they had any chance to test it, the only test it would get would be when they used it to attempt to go forward to the time from which they’d come. But, with the exact time and date still showing on the watch… well, it was almost guaranteed to work exactly as they wanted it to.

Severus had been stunned. He didn’t know whether to be angry that the damn watch had been there all the time or terrified that now there was nothing to stop him finishing the _Crux Temporis._ He thanked Harry, gingerly took the wrist-watch with the silver tongs and disappeared into his lab.

He wished that he could tell his lover that the watch hadn’t worked; but he knew instinctively that it would work. The problem was that Severus was an honourable man and once he had given his word he knew that he would keep it, even if it meant that he was taking the man he loved to his certain death. However, he could not help wishing that they had somehow lost the watch along the way.

Severus had tried desperately to control the panic rising in his stomach. He and Harry had enjoyed four years together, four wonderful years, but the discovery of the watch had meant they could hold back no-longer. Everything had been ready. 

He’d collected the ingredients that he needed and carefully brewed the potion that would turn Harry’s watch into the _Crux Temporis._

Several evenings later, at just the right moment, he’d added to the potion all the small items Harry had brought with him from their time. The next morning, at exactly an hour before dawn, he’d added the last, crucial item to this magical process – Harry’s Muggle digital watch.

********************

Severus’ re-examination of the process was complete. He had found no fatal flaws. He rolled up the scroll containing his notes and placed in a locked box that stood on his desk.

Just moments ago he had lifted the lid of the cauldron and, steeling himself (but whether for success or failure, he was beyond knowing), looked inside. The potion had gone, evaporated, absorbed by the object that he had transformed. It stood before him, at the bottom of the cauldron – the _Crux Temporis device._

The triumph that Severus normally felt when he created a new spell or charm was for once completely absent; he didn’t want it to work at all if he were completely honest with himself. He had always taken pride in creating new potions, developing new spells and charms, but right then, he couldn’t help wishing that he were as inept at Potions as Horace Slughorn had always been, as Neville Longbottom, as he had always believed Harry to be.

As Severus gazed at the biggest triumph of his distinguished magical career, he fervently wished that he had failed, even though he knew in his heart that he had succeeded.

It was truly time to attempt to take them back to where they belonged – that was, if that place existed anymore – but they were ready to try, there were no excuses left. He placed the _Crux Temporis_ device in magical stasis to keep it as unaffected by the local Roman time as possible. They had no time left, they had to try now as the anniversary of the date that they had travelled backwards, the perfect day to try to return, was in three days. 

***************** 

After ensuring that all was ready he went to find Harry. It was not long after sixth hour, so Severus would have stopped working very soon anyway in order to share his midday meal with the boys.

Harry and Apisus were in the garden, it being a lovely sunny spring day. Flea was chasing her tail in amongst the lavender and Harry was trying to teach Apisus to cast a Patronus, and from what Severus could see he was progressing quite well.

All of the people who had been present on the night that Hermia had given birth to her twins seemed to have developed some sort of magical ability, undoubtedly thanks to the enormous amount of magical energy Harry had expended. For most of them the ability was limited, they could barely cast the simplest spell, but considering that none of them had shown any magical capacity before that night, it was a significant change. Four people, however, had been much more affected than the rest, and as far as Severus could tell they were now, to all intents and purposes, witches and wizards. 

Hermia seemed to have acquired a considerable magical ability as had both of her twins, even though they were very young they had each in turn had episodes of uncontrolled magic. The fourth person, and perhaps the one who was most magical of all, was Apisus.

Modia had been delighted to suddenly have so much magic in her family, especially what appeared to be three very powerful wizards. The three year old twins had been showing magical aptitude for a couple of years now. Modia, the girl, had been first born and she was stronger and seemingly more advanced than her brother. But it was little Sev, second born and a bit of a miracle to have survived all that he had gone through, who was apparently the most powerful of the two. Only the day before the little boy had sat in Severus’ garden and animated a number of coloured stones to dance around the heads of himself and his sister. The pebble circus had caused the toddlers to collapse in a fit of giggles at little Sev’s cleverness and Modia to beam with pride.

Hermia had named her son ‘Severus’, after him, even though it was Harry who had saved her life. Severus felt quite regretful about that, he would like to have known that there was another little Harry in the world, one that would likely get a better childhood than his own Harry had endured. But Severus was Hermia and Rufus’ Paterfamilias and it was traditional for families to name their eldest son after their patron. Besides, however fond of Harry they were, nobody was going to name their freeborn son after a slave.

Harry’s status as a slave was one reason that, happy though he was with Harry in their life together here, perhaps the boy was right to want to return home. It was a positive reason to leave, the only one which had occurred to Severus and he clung to it as if it were treasure untold. Harry was a very fine wizard; he was funny and bright and very, very powerful, but here in Ancient Rome, Harry could never be anything other than a freedman and he would always be seen as inferior to most of the population of Rome.

Severus did not doubt that their subterfuge had been necessary. He had acted on impulse and he truly had wanted to protect Harry, but in doing so he had saddled him with a persona that was sometimes difficult to deal with. Not that Harry ever complained. 

Severus had woven all kinds of protection spells around Harry since the day he had been attacked by Devis Iulius Nocens. He had lodged a will with the Vestals ensuring that if anything happened to him Harry would inherit everything and would be as safe as Severus could make him.

But Harry wasn’t truly safe here, not really. Severus tried not to think about the fact that he wasn’t safe anywhere else either. He also knew that, in his heart and in Harry’s, they really wanted to stay, because safe or not, this had become home to them – with friends to whom they were closer than any family either of them had ever had.

Harry was smiling, as he watched Apisus manage to produce a strong mist from the end of the wand they had made him. They’d obviously had no access to a wandmaker, so he and Harry had helped Apisus and Hermia to make their own. Both of the wands had a core made from slivers taken from a silver Sickle that had not been spent. Harry still had a small number left, even after Severus had appropriated a quantity with which to make the tongs. As they were Goblin made, they were very magical indeed - if prepared in the right way, of course.

Severus had infused them with a potion to expose the innate magic and prepared wands from olivewood taken from the tree in their garden. These wands were nothing like as sophisticated as Severus’ own, or even as Harry’s wand, which had apparently once belonged to Draco Malfoy. However they did work, albeit in a far more rudimentary way. Therefore the fact that Apisus was producing a corporeal mist as part of the Patronus charm was, in Severus’ opinion, phenomenal. 

Perhaps it was the fact that Apisus lived with them that had so stimulated the growth in his magic? Most of the others seemed to have much enhanced healing skills, they were sick less often and got better far more quickly and Severus suspected that they would age far more slowly. The lack of suitable wands had not been a problem for them as they were only able to cast very simple spells anyway, but Hermia and Apisus were increasing in ability with each day that passed.

He didn’t want to spoil this afternoon. He wanted to watch Harry and Apisus and preserve this moment for all time. Harry was relaxed, he was happy. Apisus had blossomed under Harry’s ministrations. 

Was he right to inform them of his success? It had seemed to Severus so many times in the past years that he was insane to pursue this spell. He wasn’t even sure that their world existed any longer. Who knew how far they had changed the timeline? When Harry had set free his magic perhaps he had destroyed the future as they knew it? There could be no assurances, there was simply no way to tell. 

For a while he leaned on a pillar, just watching the boys interact, drinking in their happiness. Harry, the boy he loved beyond all reason, and Apisus who had also come to mean so much to him. 

Since Apisus’ arrival, Severus had grown increasingly fond of the boy. For the first few months he had been almost completely silent around Severus, but he had blossomed under Harry’s care and support, and slowly but surely, a bright, brave and lively individual had made his place in their home. He quite simply adored Harry, that was obvious to anyone. Harry understood him at a very deep level, which, for awhile, raised warning bells for Severus. He didn’t understand how Harry could understand so well what the other boy had been through unless he had suffered something similar himself? Perhaps he worried unduly? Harry just had more empathy and compassion than anyone Severus had ever met? 

It was apparent to Severus, as well as everyone else in their little community, that Apisus was not the slow-witted, lazy boy they had all thought him to be. With the improvement in his mental and physical living conditions Aps had blossomed. Harry had undertaken to teach his new friend a basic education. After 3½ years Apisus could read, write and calculate. He also knew a good bit about the history and politics of his time and demonstrated a good deal of intelligence and common sense. There was little resemblance left to the scrawny, frightened slave-boy who had come to their home so long ago. He had also reached his true height and gained a decent weight, actually maturing into a very attractive young man, indeed. Not that he appealed to Severus in any way, he only had eyes for one man and that was his lover, Harry Potter.

 

That was probably just as well. Severus doubted that Apisus would ever feel comfortable in a sexual relationship with another man anyway, even if Severus had wished to pursue one. He had been too badly abused and raped too often to allow male touches. He was only really comfortable being touched by Harry, although on occasion over the past couple of years he had allowed quick hugs from the twins and Severus, himself, which touched Severus more deeply than he could express. 

Severus had promised him time and again, that he was safe in their home, that no one would ever use him again, that no one would have sex with him without his full consent. It had taken Apisus years to believe him, but he finally knew that he was safe with Severus and Harry. 

Over the years he had become a part of their strange little family and Severus was deeply saddened by the realisation that they could not take him with them. He would be fine here, everything that Severus owned would belong to him. He would be well off, taken care of and he would not be alone. As it turned out, he was deeply in love with Modia’s sweet daughter, Virginia. These assurances, however, did not mean that Severus wouldn’t miss him or this place. He knew deep down that this little corner of Augustus’ Rome would always be special and that he had been happier during these four, short years than in the entirety of his life before. 

Severus had arranged to free both the boys on Harry’s twenty-first birthday, and Modia had reluctantly agreed to let her daughter marry Apisus as a favour to Severus. However, it looked like the Roman boy wouldn’t have to wait until then, because Severus had done as he had promised Harry and found a way to send them back long before the proposed manumission date in July. Everything that they owned here in Rome would belong to Apisus. Their life here had been a good one, Apisus would be very well off indeed.

He didn’t want to share his news, he knew that the moment he told Harry what he had done, their happiness would be shattered. Harry would never be as carefree again, neither of them would. 

So it was with a heart that felt like it had turned to lead that he finally gathered himself and walked into the sunshine of the March afternoon.

Both boys looked up as Severus came into the garden, but neither of them spoke.

“ _It’s done._ ” was all Severus needed to say. Harry paled and Apisus burst into tears.

Harry was standing in the dappled sunlight staring at him with horror. He had been kneeling beside Apisus when Severus had entered the garden, but he had stood at Severus’ words, on legs that seemed barely able to support him.

“ _Oh…_ ” he whispered. Severus didn’t so much hear Harry speak as read the word on his lips.

“ _Could you go out for an hour or two, Apisus?_ ” Severus asked the other boy.

Apisus nodded and left without saying anything, merely tapping his thigh to signal to Flea that it was time for a walk. The scruffy yellow dog ran after the tall auburn-haired figure, but Severus didn’t watch them leave. After the incident at the birth of Hermia’s twins, Harry had insisted on telling Apisus everything and he had never once betrayed their trust. He knew exactly what Severus had finally managed to do, and judging from the tears he was not even trying to hide, he was not terribly happy about it.

But his biggest concern at that moment was for Harry. Harry, who seemed bloodless, so pale had he become. Harry, who was trembling as if he had been plunged into ice water without warning.

“ _Are you alright, love?_ ” Severus asked.

But it seemed that Harry could not even speak. Severus managed to cross the stretch of garden between them and catch the boy before he fell.

“ _We don’t have to do it, Harry. We could stay here, this is our home._ ” Severus said as he gathered the young man into his arms. But Harry didn’t even answer him, after all there was really no need. They’d had this discussion more times than Severus could count.

Neither Harry nor Severus really wanted to go back, why would they? Everything they could ever want was right here. But this was Harry’s choice. Harry worried about what was happening to those that were left somewhere in the far distant future. He could not forget the prophecy and his part in it and Severus knew that if they did not go back it would eat away at him, destroying him by degrees. 

Long ago Severus had promised to protect Harry, to help him fulfil his destiny and destroy the creature that had killed Lily and condemned Harry to a lonely, bleak childhood. He hated it, he hated the cruel fate that had put them both in this position but, in truth, he had no option but to abide by that oath.

Yet he couldn’t resist trying one more time.

“ _Let’s stay, Harry. We don’t have to do this, for all we know our timeline doesn’t even exist anymore. The Dark Lord might never even have been born; we could have changed things that much whilst we were here._ ” 

But Harry shook his head against Severus’ chest, where it was cradled.

“ _We have to go back._ ” The young man’s voice was broken and tremulous. Maybe he’d finally realised what he had asked for? Severus thought maybe he hadn’t fully understood before now what awaited him?

But Severus knew he was lying to himself. Harry had known all along, far more than Severus had believed him to know. The boy was trembling again, held tightly in Severus’ arms, trying to gather himself. Their time in Rome had been dangerous, frightening sometimes, for Harry at least, and lonely too, in the beginning. But it had also been very special. He had grown to know and respect and love Harry here in this primitive world. He had also fallen in love with Harry. But best of all, he knew that Harry felt the same about him. And now they had to go back and face Harry’s death and very probably his own.

Severus picked Harry up, scooped him into his arms as if he were still the man-child that he had been when they’d first arrived. He had stopped growing now, Severus thought. He would always be smaller and lighter than Severus was, smaller and lighter than his father had been, though whether that was because of Lily’s genes or the neglect that he had suffered as a child, Severus would never know.

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” Harry whispered against Severus’ neck, his voice sounding sad and muffled, and Severus carried him to their room and held him tenderly until the shaking finally stopped.

Slowly, so slowly Harry began to kiss him. He caressed him, running his fingers along Severus’ jaw line. Each kiss became a little more urgent, a little more tinged with desperation and then he was pulling at Severus’ clothing, desperate, it seemed, to be touching more skin, to feel Severus against him.

“ _Please?_ ” he begged. “ _Please, Domine? Please?_ ”

Severus didn’t need to ask what Harry was asking for, he knew all too well. He kissed his boy back as urgently as Harry was kissing him. They didn’t have long left in this time; they may not even have very long to live and Harry didn’t want to waste a minute. They had first found comfort in Severus’ bed, in Severus’ arms, and it was where they always retreated. 

~~Flashback~~

Severus still remembered his shock the day he realised that Harry knew he was a Horcrux. It had been in summer, the year before last. The evening had grown cool and they had retired to bed early, to make love. 

Severus had known for a long time that it was likely Harry would have to die. He had never forgotten the shock when the realisation had dawned on him, how disgusted he had been with Albus – and he hadn’t even liked the boy then. Now, even the thought of the prophecy and what it promised for Harry was enough to make him sick with terror.

“You raised him like a pig for the slaughter,” he had told Albus in disgust. He remembered his horror at what Albus had planned for Lily’s child, he remembered how he had distanced himself from Harry during his last term at Hogwarts, how he had told himself that Harry was not a worthy successor for his mother, marked as he was for certain death. Up to this point he had seen the old man as a mentor. However, since Albus had forced Severus into taking his life, made him an outcast and condemned Harry, he didn’t know how he felt about the man that he had once loved like a father. 

Severus had suffered a lot to protect Harry over the years, and when he had found out that Albus believed and supported the supposition that Harry had to die in order to banish Voldemort he had been shocked and disgusted. 

It had been bad enough knowing such things when he hated Harry Potter, but now such thoughts were unbearable. The young man was quite simply, the love of his life, and Severus did not want to lose him. This time, he promised himself, he would not live on alone.

He had kissed Harry’s scar on that summer evening and Harry had stopped him, awed. “ _Why did you do that, Domine?_ ” he had wondered. 

“ _Because it is part of you, Harry._ ” Severus had told him.

“ _It’s a Horcrux!_ ” Harry had whispered, and then he had told Severus all that he had known about the prophecy and the inevitability of his own death. Stunned and horrified that his lover knew all this, Severus had, nonetheless, held him close whilst he cried, unable to give any other comfort at all. 

~~End Flashback~~

Harry had not shed a tear since that summer night, Severus thought he probably had none left.

Until now. 

Harry’s kisses grew more frantic and, all at once, the boy was wet with tears. They streaked his face and lay damply on his chest and in his hair. Severus was frantic too, having no way of knowing what would happen when they got back (if they got back), or if they would ever have the chance to make love again. This might be all that he would have of Harry and he would not miss a second of it.

“ _In me! Now! Please!_ ” Harry demanded from between clenched teeth, he was grabbing at Severus, trying to pull him closer. He canted his hips, wrapped a leg around Severus, whimpering with need. Severus Accioed the scented oil that he used with Harry. He had to slap the boy’s hands away whilst he prepared them both, as Harry was desperate it seemed to be as close to Severus as he could be.

_“Please, Domine. Please.”_

Severus didn’t think he had ever seen Harry as desperate as this, as needy for him. He would have laughed if he hadn’t felt like his heart was breaking.

Harry hissed through his still tightly clenched teeth when Severus entered him. His eyes were tight shut and his hands were grasping blindly at Severus’ back.

Their coupling was tinged with desperation, it was quick and frantic. Severus’ orgasm was violent and came quickly, mere seconds after Harry’s. Sated and trembling with emotion he collapsed forward on top of his lover. Harry didn’t speak and neither did Severus. What was there left to say that they hadn’t already said so many times before? 

They lay together for a long time afterwards, Harry’s face close to his. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair wanting to touch him, wanting to reassure himself that Harry was still there, that he hadn’t lost him yet. Harry didn’t speak, he just stared sadly at nothing whilst he pressed his cheek against Severus’ shoulder and gently stroked his lover’s chest, making idle circles around Severus’ nipple. The boy’s face was wet with tears which Severus couldn’t understand, because, though Harry’s eyes were sad they were dry. Then he realised that Harry wasn’t crying – the tears on Harry’s cheeks were his own. 

 

********** 

 

Harry had gone to deliver his presents. There had still been a handful of Sickles and Knuts that they hadn’t spent and Harry had taken them to Septimus to have them made into tokens for each of his friends. He was currently somewhere in the warren of alleyways giving them out before they left.

Apisus was in the garden, sitting with his knees cuddled tight against his chest, the very essence of sadness. The shop was closed for the day.

“ _Are you nearly ready to go?_ ” he asked softly as Severus sat down beside him.

“ _When Harry gets back. We’ll go then._ ”

“ _What will I do when you’ve gone?_ ” Apisus said urgently. “ _How will I manage without you?_ ”

“ _You will manage,_” Severus told him firmly. “ _You are one of the strongest young men that I have ever met, Apisus. You’ll continue to grow, you’ll marry Virginia and have a good life._ ”

Apisus wouldn’t look at him, he shook his head vigorously and Severus thought idly that his hair needed cutting and that he would have to tell Harry. Then he realised with a pang that it wasn’t up to him anymore, every decision, great or small, was up to Apisus now. 

The boy beside him sobbed, a great wracking sob that seemed to come straight from his gut and without thinking about it Severus wrapped an arm around Apisus’ shoulders and pulled him into a hug. It was a testament to how close they had become that Apisus didn’t flinch or pull away and Severus felt a great sense of satisfaction that the boy trusted him so much.

“ _I won’t manage, I’ll miss you. It won’t be the same._ ” Apisus sobbed. 

Severus was surprised that Apisus had any tears left, he had cried so much in the last few days. But he held him just the same. He had comforted Harry so many times that he knew what to do for Apisus without even having to think about it. He smoothed the boy’s hair and rubbed idle circles on his back and Apisus curled against him, just like Harry did. However, he felt wrong somehow in Severus’ arms, he was too big, too angular. He didn’t fit properly and Severus felt awkward, as if he were betraying Harry somehow. Not that Harry would have objected in any way, Severus just wasn’t used to hugging anyone but his lover. 

The boy finally stopped crying, though he did let out a deep wavering sigh.

“ _I’d be dead now, if you and Harry hadn’t rescued me._ ” he said. “ _I used to hurt all the time and I felt so dirty. I never got time to wash, or keep clean and everyone thought I was stupid and worthless, and I was._”

“ _No you weren’t,_ ” Severus said softly, stroking Apisus’ hair as he spoke. “ _You were brutalised, beaten down by fear and by what you had to do._ ”

Severus pretty much knew he would never have a son, but if he did he wanted one just like this boy. Apisus was the same age as Harry but they were very different in Severus’ eyes. Harry was his lover, his equal. In the last year he had far outstripped Severus magically. He now knew all that Severus could teach him about magic, both Dark and Light and conversely Severus knew all about Harry. 

He knew what he was frightened of and what he liked best; he knew about Harry’s deprived childhood and the abuse he had suffered; he knew about the things that had happened to him during the year he had spent on the run and how he felt about them. He also knew that Harry was the very essence of a hero, that he would never turn away from anyone who was depending on him. That was why they were trying to go back.

But Apisus was different, he was a normal human, albeit a magical one, like Severus knew himself to be. Apisus had been broken down by life, too, had been damaged and twisted until Harry had come to the rescue.

“ _You made me better,_ ” Apisus said firmly, unknowingly echoing Severus’ thoughts. “ _You made my life worth living again, you and Harry._

_“When I was taken as a slave, I thought that my life was over, and it was for a very long time._ ”

_“I thought that you were born a slave, like Modia and Rufus and Hermia?_ ” Severus said, questioningly.

Apisus shook his head. “ _My father was quite well born. His name was Marcus Antonius Apisus. His mother was the daughter of a freedman, she was called Fadia. His father, my grandfather, was a great general. Father was named after my grandfather. My grandmother always said that they were very happy, but she wasn’t important enough. My grandfather was ambitious and he fell in love with a great general called Gaius Julius Caeser, so, in order to progress politically, he divorced my grandmother and married again._

_“He was always close to my father and my grandmother though, and he used to visit them often, especially when he was married to his second wife, Antonia, whom he didn’t like at all._

_“Father was always close to his younger half-brother, Marcus Antonius Antyllus and we followed him around, my father was like a sort of secretary and aide to Antyllus. Marcus Antonius chose the name Antyllus, he liked nicknames for his children, he called my own father Albus, because his hair turned white before he was twenty-five, and he called Fabia, Faynia, because he said it sounded better, that it suited her because it was kinder somehow._

_“When I was born I was named Albus Marcus Apisus: Albus after my father’s nickname, Marcus after my grandfather and Apisus after my grandmother’s second husband. He was a good man, so my father said, and he adopted my grandmother’s children, including my father and cared for them as if they were his own._ ”

_“What happened to you, Apisus? Surely Augustus would not have enslaved you? He even spared Antonius’ children by Cleopatra,”_ Severus asked softly. He was shocked at the boy’s revelations. Apisus was the grandson of one of Rome’s greatest generals, a man who came from a prominent family. There should have been no way that such a close relative of the mighty Marcus Antonius could have ended up as a slave, never mind a whore in a cheap, shabby tavern. However he had no doubt that the boy was telling the truth.

“ _He was still Octavian then,_ ” Apisus said simply, but not without a tinge of bitterness in his voice. “ _My uncle Antyllus was a fierce supporter of Marcus Antonius. He petitioned for him several times in the war between my grandfather and Octavian and finally, when Grandfather killed himself, Antyllus went to Octavian to beg for his life and that of my father, but the Emperor had him beheaded._

_“He left my family to his soldiers._

_“Mother killed herself and my sisters, but I was with my father, and the soldiers got to us before he could do anything._ ”

Apisus was hugging his knees close to his chest, staring ahead unseeingly, fixated not on what was around him but on the horrors of his past. His voice was so soft that Severus had to strain to hear him.

“ _He was a good man, my father, but he was a gentle one, too. I know that my grandfather loved him, but he did not have the soul of a soldier and he couldn’t bring himself to draw his sword on me. There was a big, burly centurion who commanded the soldiers. I have met many men like him since, but before then all the men I had known were gentle with me - he wasn’t gentle, none of them were._ ”

Apisus grew silent again. They sat for a while without speaking and Severus waited patiently for the boy to gather himself enough to continue. 

“ _One of his men held me when he cut down my father, who begged for my life – he didn’t care about his own. He pleaded with them to spare me, to take me to my grandmother. They didn’t listen, they didn’t care. I was eleven-years-old and I was very pretty then._ ”

Apisus didn’t say anything else, but then he didn’t need to. Severus couldn’t speak either. He had pulled Apisus closer whilst the young man had been telling his story and the auburn head, with its shaggy curls, now rested on his shoulder. Severus wanted to hold him and never let him go. He could hardly bear to think of what the boy’s life had been like over the last nine years, of what he had been through.

“ _I am so sorry,_ ” he whispered.

“ _It’s better now,_ ” Apisus said.

They sat together for a long time, Severus listening to Apisus’ slow even breathing. Flea was curled in a patch of sunlight, yipping and twitching in her sleep. The little dog seemed so carefree and Severus knew without looking that Apisus was watching her too. 

“ _I can’t believe that I am free,_ ” commented Apisus, finally breaking the companionable silence. He was holding the scroll that Severus had given him that morning. It evidenced his manumission and it seemed as if he could never let it go.

“ _You are though,_ ” Severus replied, unnecessarily. He sat up straighter as a sudden thought crossed his mind. “ _What is your name? Have you taken the name Severus or Hispanicus?_ ”

Apisus bit his lip and looked away. “ _Apisus?_ ”

“ _Um…I’m sorry, Domine, erm…I haven’t taken either._ ”

He was blushing, a deep brick red. “ _Harry thought it would be alright if I went back to my birth name, as you are going away. It just felt right somehow, like being me again, like remembering my father. I am sorry, Domine, I didn’t mean to upset you._ ”

Severus felt a frisson of guilt, if this boy wanted to keep his father’s name, who was Severus to stop him?

“ _That’s all right, child,_ ” he said, “ _and you don’t need to call me Domine any longer, call me Severus now._ ”

“ _Thank you… Severus,_ ” Apisus whispered seriously.

Severus thought that Apisus’ smile was one of the sweetest that he had ever seen.

“ _Did you see what Harry gave me?_ ” Apisus held up his gift for Severus to see.

Severus smiled at the boy and examined the trinket that Apisus was holding up for him to see. It was a bee, exquisitely wrought from one of the silver Sickles that Harry had kept.

“ _My Patronus is a bee. I managed one yesterday. My Patronus and my name. I can feel the magic in it. Isn’t it beautiful?_ ” Apisus held it up to the light where it fluttered and buzzed in the sunshine, animated by a charm, provided by Harry.

_“It really is,”_ Severus told him, “ _and so are you. I am very pleased to have known you Albus Marcus Apisus._ ” Apisus smiled shyly.

“ _You will make a wonderful husband for Virginia. She is very lucky to have you… Um…Modia will be impressed when she hears your name, when she knows whose grandchild you are.”_

Apisus’ smile widened, revealing a dimple in one cheek that Severus had never really noticed before.

“ _What?_ ” Severus half laughed, delighted to see the sparkle in Apisus’ eyes.

“ _Modia already knows. Harry told her, that’s why she agreed to let Virginia marry me._ ”

 

**********

Severus couldn't believe that it was finally time to leave. With all the research he had done into how it worked, how he might get them back to their own time again, it seemed like this day would never come. He still couldn’t understand how sometimes things seemed to take such a very long time – when he had to be nice to some of their more odious customers, for example. Yet now, when he didn’t want to leave, when he wanted to stay here with Harry and not have to face a murderous, torturing madman, time had never seemed to pass so quickly. 

They decided they should leave from exactly the same place at which they had arrived. The alley seemed smaller somehow and very cramped. Later in the year the beaten earth would turn to dust and the bougainvillea would bloom vigorously, sprawling over the ramshackle balconies, almost seeming to keep the flimsy buildings standing.

All of Modia’s family were there to say goodbye. It seemed bizarre somehow that he and Harry had become part of them, both supporting and being supported by them. Strange that the two of them had come so far to find home. For a short time most of them had taken Severus’ name, as their Paterfamilias, though it had not lasted long. Hispanicus was not a name for Roman citizens Modia had told him. Romans only liked their citizens to be named after a country if they had played their part in conquering it. So the name had become altered, not by Modia or her children but by their neighbours and friends.

When the Romans had conquered Spain, the clans who had fought the hardest had earned themselves a nickname after the sly, clever little creatures that were used for catching rats in a city the size of Rome. The Romans respected a determined, resourceful enemy and most Spaniards were given the nickname that Severus had been made aware of only recently. That name was acceptable, it seemed. So Modia’s family earned the cognomen _Mustelus,_ which Severus couldn’t help but think, suited them rather well, they were resourceful and resilient and somehow always managed to survive. Just like the creature that they were named for, just like the weasel.

At last Harry came running over his rucksack bouncing on his back. He was a little distressed and his eyes were tinged with red. He had said his goodbyes it seemed and was ready to leave. He wrapped a slim, brown arm around Severus’ waist and buried his head against Severus’ shoulder as he often did when he was seeking comfort. 

“ _What’s wrong, Harry?_ ” Severus asked, hoping that it wasn’t more than sadness at leaving their pseudo family.

“ _Flea is missing,”_ Harry said. “ _I can’t find her and I wanted to say goodbye one last time._ ”

_“Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll look after Flea for you._ ” Hermia called, overhearing his words.

“ _She is probably hunting rats or something, she’ll be fine, she is a tough little thing._ ” Severus said. 

He’d decided not to tell Harry that he had transfigured the little dog, although he had told Modia in order that she could tell the others so they wouldn’t worry about what had happened to Flea. She meant so much to the boy and he had no real idea if she would make it back with them unharmed. He had no idea whether they would remain unharmed, come to that! If they made it back safely, if they hadn’t changed the timeline beyond all recognition, then he would turn the dog from the smooth yellow pebble she was currently transfigured to be, back into the bouncy yellow dog that was her usual form. And if she didn’t make it? Well, then Harry would never know, he would, instead, be able to picture her happily chasing around the alleyways in which she had been born, looked after by the ever growing Mustelus family.

Hermia hugged him and Severus’ eyes prickled and his throat felt dry. It had been hot hadn’t it? Maybe Rome was dustier than was usual for the time of year? Why else would his eyes be filling with tears? Hermia placed a kiss upon his cheek.

The tavern, the wine shop and the little shop that sold novelties and toys had thrived in the past few years. Severus’ potions business now belonged to Apisus, who would soon become Modia’s son-in-law. The matron had done well in the four years since she had helped them find shelter and build a home.

“ _Good luck, Severus. Good luck, Harry. May the great God Jupiter protect you and carry you safely home._ ” Modia spoke first, but her words were echoed by her husband and her children, numbering two more now, since she had purchased her two eldest sons from slavery the year before. Only one child remained a slave and he was a clerk to a senator, a position that seemed to suit him well. Severus had only met him once and thought him far too full of his own superiority. He didn’t know what he was missing.

Finally, Severus produced the _Crux Temporis,_ made from Harry’s broken watch, and created using the _Tempus Potion_. It had taken him a year and a half to research it and two more to finalize it using the bric-a-brac Harry had brought from the Rome of the late 1990s. Their journey was almost over – but what awaited them at the other end?

He laced his fingers with Harry’s so that his right hand held Harry’s left, then he took the _Crux Temporis_ out of his pocket. He held it in front of them, took a deep breath and looked down at the boy pressed close against him. Harry was biting his bottom lip, looking worried, anxious – as well he might, Severus thought.

His green eyes were clouded with worry.

“ _It’ll be all right, sweetheart,_ ” Severus told him.

“ _I love you,_ ” Harry whispered, the worry wrinkle that creased his forehead being chased away by a weak, watery smile.

“ _I love you, too._ ” Severus whispered back.

Harry placed his hand on the battered watch that Severus had transformed into the device that would take them home. The young man swallowed deeply, and at that moment Severus knew exactly what Harry was feeling. The wrist-watch seemed cheap and insubstantial. It was difficult to trust something which appeared to be so flimsy and he knew that Harry despised Portkeys – hardly surprising considering the experience he had suffered during the Tri-wizard Tournament. Severus squeezed his hand gently to comfort him and Harry moved closer so that he was leaning against Severus’ torso. 

Together they said the spell that would take them away…would hopefully take them home.

“ _Tempus Fugit Praeterhac_ ” 

Immediately it was as if someone had taken all the air away and Severus struggled to breathe. The world began to spin madly around them, a dervish of colour and light and madness as if they had fallen into a tempest. He could feel Harry’s warmth against him, and Harry’s hand clasped in his own. But they were the only things he could feel. Everything else was fleeting, insubstantial… and then everything went black and for what seemed like forever, Severus felt nothing at all.

********** 

 

Story notes

Marcus Antonius Antyllus – really did exist, he was the son of Mark Antony and he was indeed killed by Augustus, just as Apisus described.

Fabia was Mark Antony’s first wife and not much is known about her.

Mustelus – weasel

Apis (Apisus) - bee


	8. chapter eight

This is the first part of a really long last chapter. I couldn't post it all in one on LJ so I broke it up. The last bit of the story will be up very soon as chapter nine, as that just seems to fit better here. There is also an epilogue which is currently in progress and should be up in the next couple of days. ~ Lucie

 

Chapter eight - in which they get back

 

Chapter eight

 

Severus could hear voices. They were discussing him and the fact that he was unconscious, except, of course, that he wasn’t anymore because he could hear them. The voices seemed strangely familiar and yet peculiarly different and he couldn’t for the life of him work out why.

He groaned.

“ _Domine? Are you all right?_ ” Harry, it was Harry. He sounded okay, had he done it? Had he got them home? Tentatively he opened his eyes and then closed them again. Rapidly.

“ _Too bright, head hurts._ ” Severus croaked.

“He took quite a tumble when you came back, Harry. I think he hurt his head. We need to get him back to the hotel.” 

Severus’ eyes were scrunched tight against the bright sunshine so he couldn’t see who was speaking, but he knew that voice and he knew why it had been strange and yet conversely familiar. It was English, the girl was speaking English. After four years of speaking, of hearing, nothing but Latin, English sounded very peculiar indeed.

“We could Apparate, there’s nobody about right now.” 

A man’s voice. Weasley? “Weasley?” Severus said, then he winced, as his voice sounded too loud.

“ _Just lie still, Domine, you’ve cut your head, you’re bleeding. I need to check you over._ ” 

Harry’s hand tenderly brushed Severus’ hair away from the bloody scrape on his forehead and gentle fingers began to slowly examine him. Severus winced as Harry carefully pushed against his ribs.

“What did you say? Was that Italian?”

“Don’t be silly Ron, that was Latin, not Italian, can’t you tell the difference?”

“Erm…No? Why is Harry talking Latin anyway?”

“You could ask me, Ron, I am here too.”

“So why are you speaking Latin? Why are you holding his hand? He’s the Greasy Git, remember? And why are you wearing a dress?”

If Severus could have opened his eyes he would have rolled them, he wished the boy would stop asking such inane questions. But at least he knew one thing, it seemed as if they were right back where they had started. The Tempus spell had worked. He had done it, gotten them back to their own time, and from the way that Granger and Weasley seemed to be prattling on, from the very fact that there was a Granger and a Weasley, then maybe history hadn’t been changed much at all.

Harry finished his examination, apparently satisfied that nothing was seriously wrong and took Severus’ hand in his own. Severus felt slightly warmed, Harry didn’t seem to mind that his friends were there and could see his obvious concern for him.

“He is a bit sore, but I don’t think anything’s broken,” Harry said in English and then effortlessly switching back to Latin. “ _Domine, can you sit up? I need to get you sitting so we can Apparate._ ”

Severus carefully opened his eyes again and Harry helped him into a seated position. He squinted around, trying not to open his eyes too widely. He was at the foot of the statue of Julius Caesar and Granger and Weasley were peering at him as if he were a particularly strange creature, one of the ones that Luna Lovegood constantly wittered on about.

“He does look very pale,” Granger said earnestly.

“He always looks like that to me,” Weasley muttered.

“Leave him alone, Ron!” Harry growled indignantly, but his green eyes softened when they met Severus’ own dark ones.

Weasley looked a bit indignant at Harry’s reprimand and Severus felt like smiling. He hadn’t realised how concerned he had been about Harry’s reaction to his friends. They had always been inseparable and he hadn’t liked to think about the possibility that Harry might not want to be seen with him. But Harry was showing no sign of denying him, yet. 

Severus groaned again, but Harry helped him into a sitting position and then, carefully, helped him to stand. Sharp pain shot through his left leg as soon as he put his weight on it and he winced. He felt sick and dizzy, stumbled and nearly fell. Harry was still so slight compared to Severus that Severus’ weight, leaning against him caused him to stumble too.

“Help him, Ron!” Hermione shouted.

Severus had forgotten how tall Weasley was. He was sure that there had been no-one this height in Rome, not outside the circus, that was. Weasley hooked a long arm under Severus’ own and Severus couldn’t help himself, he yelped at the sharp pain in his ribs. 

“Oops, sorry, Snape,” Weasley grunted, and then more gently, “You took a bit of a bump there, huh Professor?”

Severus just nodded tightly in response. “Don’t worry then,” continued Ron. “We’ll get you back to our hotel. You can have a nice rest there.”

The squeezing sensation of side-along Apparation was excruciating, leaving Severus’ ribs thrumming in agony and himself panting with the pain, half doubled against Weasley, hand clutching Harry’s as if he would never let it go. 

“Domine, are you all right?” Harry’s voice, soft and concerned, penetrated his agony.

He couldn’t speak, though, being in far too much pain, so he just nodded again instead.

“We're nearly there,” Harry said, keeping up a running commentary, perhaps trying to keep Severus from passing out? Something that he was indeed perilously close to doing.

“When we got to Rome, Ron, Hermione and me – you know, before our little ‘adventure’ – anyway, we thought it was best to stay in a hotel here. It isn’t that expensive and I got plenty of money out when we went to Gringotts.” 

“Ah, yes,” Severus hissed, the pain in his leg was getting steadily worse, “your little escapade with the dragon.” He was trying to reassure the boy, to somehow ease his worry. But Harry didn’t take his comments as they were intended.

He blushed in a way that he hadn’t done for a very long time, and Severus felt another wave of sadness. 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. I wasn’t trying to be impulsive or put anyone in danger!” Harry snapped, somewhat defensively. Now that they were back in their own time, perhaps he was beginning to remember how things used to be and felt a little uncomfortable, not sure just how Severus would react anymore.

“Harry,” he said as reasonably as he could manage, considering how sore his leg and ribs were, and not forgetting the thumping of the pain in his head. “You were very brave, I am proud of your resourcefulness.” 

Harry smiled and seemed to relax, but Weasley’s jaw dropped, and when Harry placed a quick kiss on Severus’ cheek the red-haired boy paled and looked like he wanted to be sick. They had yet to explain what had happened, where they had been, and for how long. They would, indeed, need to tell their story very soon, Severus thought, as Harry smirked, obviously looking far too like his Potions Master for Weasley's comfort. 

Severus sighed in relief, having reassured Harry enough so that he could comfortably continue his chattering. Severus fervently welcomed his Harry’s familiar babbling – a balm for his soul.

“Aberforth, Dumbledore’s brother told us to come here, to this hotel. Did you know all about Dumbledore’s sister and Grindlewald?” Embarrassed and blushing again, Harry continued, “Ron and Hermione are sharing, so I’ll take you to my room. I have a double room too, it’s all they had left and it wasn’t as if I couldn’t afford it.” 

Harry’s chatter was sounding so young and unsure, almost as if things had gone right back to the way that they had always been. Severus frowned in concern, or was it fear, and felt his sense of sadness deepening. Maybe Harry was wishing things were how they had been, before their adventure with time, so he could carry on with his task from there? Was he feeling like Severus did – lost and saddened and very disorientated? 

They had been away four years. Four whole years. Severus thought they had both changed beyond all recognition during that time and now it was this place that seemed strange. The conversations seemed wrong, the musicality of Italian in the background sounded like distorted Latin, and English seemed harsh and grating. They were back. They were once again in their own time. Whilst they had moved on irrevocably, nothing here was any different. They were back, they were safe, even if he were a little battered. But they were no longer at home, this wasn’t home anymore. 

“We have to get him inside, Harry, we can’t stay here, people will notice.” Granger’s voice sounded concerned, too, though Severus suspected that was because she was worried about being discovered by Death Eaters, rather than because she felt any concern for him.

He shivered, suddenly feeling cold. His blood seemed to have turned to ice in his veins and he was hit by yet another wave of sadness and disorientation. They were safe; as far as he could see they had changed nothing with their temporal travels. Maybe they had gone too far back in the time-line to affect the world that they had left? He decided to reserve judgement because in many ways it was far too early to tell.

Upon first arriving in Modern Rome, following the Trio four years ago, Severus had thought he would love the sprawling city. But from what little he was able to perceive of it now, it appeared to be noisy and smelly and just plain horrible. He thought he had loved it four years ago, but wait, in actuality it wasn’t four years ago – it was only a short while ago? Severus once again sighed inwardly. The colours seemed too bright and garish and the air felt heavy and cloying. He had to struggle to breathe. They seemed to be in a narrow alleyway, which was almost familiar, almost, but not quite right. It had echoes of home, but such familiarity served only to deepen Severus’ sadness. 

For four years they had lived somewhere close to here, even if it had been two thousand years in the past. For the past four years Severus had had a home and a family and someone whom he loved beyond all reason and, more importantly, someone who loved him back. That was all gone now and he could never return. He couldn’t help himself, a great wracking sob was wrenched from him, causing him to groan as the pain intensified.

“Hurry, Ron, we have to get him to my room. He needs to lie down… we have to heal him.” Harry sounded panicked and Severus felt slightly less chilled. Maybe Harry did still care about him? Maybe that hadn’t changed.

The hotel was simple but clean and it was close to the Colisseum. “We really wanted to stay in a hotel and this was the cheapest one in the area,” Harry told him, as they helped him stagger inside. “It is so well populated in this bit of Rome that we thought we could probably escape detection here. 

Severus and Harry were covered in the Invisibility Cloak but there wasn’t room for Weasley. Apparently he was too tall and his feet stuck out the bottom, which Severus thought wryly probably spoiled the overall effect. Severus thought Harry wouldn’t be strong enough to support him alone, but it seemed that, even after all this time, he still underestimated his Gryffindor. The boy manoeuvred him into the tiny lift and up to a neat and simple room without any trouble at all. 

He must have slept, because he felt like he was floating in darkness. He saw faces, heard laughter and, for the moment, he felt safe. Modia was teasing him about his irascibility, whilst balancing her namesake on her hip. The child was covered in honey and grinning toothlessly at him. Harry helped him with a potion and then they were in the garden and he was teaching Harry and Apisus some magic, and Apisus was laughing, the sun was shining and Severus turned his head up to look at the sky. In his sleep, unaware, Severus smiled.

“Four years?” Weasley’s harsh and grating voice intruded into his dreams. Severus gasped in shock. It was true, they had journeyed through time again and the wonderful images fading from his retina were only a dream of home.

“But Harry, you were only gone for a few seconds.” Granger said.

“Shush!” Harry hissed. “You’ll wake him.”

Severus felt gentle fingers brush his cheek. “Domine?” He held his breath, feeling more vulnerable, more fragile than he had ever felt. He had to wait, he couldn’t speak to Harry now. What if his lover rejected him? What if Harry didn’t want anything to do with his greasy ex-teacher now that they were back?

Then Harry leaned over him and placed a kiss on Severus’ head, sharp tears sprang into the corners of his eyes and his heart fluttered with hope.

“Look at me,” Harry said, moving away from the bed again and talking to his friends. “Don’t I look different? My hair is longer and my skin is darker than it used to be.”

“Yeah, and you are wearing a dress.” 

“It’s not a dress, Ron, it’s a tunic. But why are you wearing a tunic, Harry?”

“Maybe he isn’t Harry, Hermione, maybe it’s a Death Eater plot to capture us again?” Weasley wondered.

“Test me.”

“Okay, Harry, if you are Harry.” Weasley spoke again, sounding wary. “What piece did I play in our first year, in that giant chess game?”

“A knight.”

“Hmm… perhaps that was too easy? Who did you and Hermione rescue in third year when you used the time turners?”

“Buckbeak and Sirius.” Harry’s voice was tinged with sadness and Severus wanted to comfort him. Severus knew he would never truly get over the loss of his godfather and, as much as he hated the mangy mutt, if he could bring him back tomorrow, just for Harry, he would do so without even a qualm of regret.

“Okay, then…”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Ron!” Granger said, sounding bossy and snippy again. For a fleeting second Severus almost felt sorry for Weasley – the girl could be so shrewish when she wanted to be. “Of course this is Harry. I believe you, Harry, but if you have been gone four years, then where on earth were you?”

“Well,” Harry said, “it’s a bit of a long story, I’m afraid.” Severus heard sounds of chairs being moved as everyone settled and then Harry began to tell their story to his friends. Severus felt too vulnerable to speak. He didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention to himself, not until he was alone with Harry again. So he lay as still as he could, deepened his breathing and pretended that he was still asleep.

 

**********

 

In a way it was fascinating hearing about their time in Ancient Rome from Harry’s point of view. Harry seemed quite willing to be frank and open with his friends, which encouraged Severus to continue pretending to be asleep. Weasley raised his voice a few times, especially when Harry related how he’d had to masquerade as Severus’ slave, and even Granger had been a bit disgusted by that. Severus shifted surreptitiously, discomforted by their disapprobation.

They chatted for what seemed like hours to Severus, all the while trying desperately to lie still under his covers. 

Harry had loved Rome it seemed. He spoke with warmth about their friends and his home, and even of Flea. And he spoke of Severus. Lovingly he told his friends how Severus had protected him, looked after him, taught him spells and Potions.

“That Greasy Git taught you Potions! He hated you in Potions!” Weasley growled, sounding indignant. “And you can’t tell me that the minute you arrived he became all sweetness and light and showered you with presents.”

“No, he didn’t. At first things were…difficult.” Harry said. 

Severus almost snorted at such an understatement; in his opinion ‘difficult’ wasn’t nearly adequate enough to describe the way he had initially treated Harry. 

“It was strange for both of us at the start,” Harry continued. “But Severus Snape has taken better care of me than anyone I have ever known. Even back when he hated me, he was protecting me, he was protecting us all. I love him. He is my lover.”

“You WHAT?” Weasley ejaculated.

“Shush, Ron, you’ll wake him.”

Weasley sputtered for a moment or two and then hissed, “You don’t mean to say that you had sex with him? He’s disgusting and old, and skinny and he has yellow teeth and greasy hair! And what about my sister?” 

“What about your sister?” Harry asked coolly. “I have been away for four years Ron. I am twenty years old. I should know by now whether I like men or women.”

Weasley didn’t say anything for a moment and neither did Granger, but then the redheaded boy spoke again. “Okay, I suppose that I understand; Ginny is going to be devastated though. And blokes is one thing, Harry, I can understand you liking blokes, but him? Have to taken leave of your senses.”

“I’ve told you. I love him.” Harry said, quietly but firmly. “I don’t know how to explain it to you, but we grew closer when we were there. We were both lonely to start with, me more than him, perhaps. We had to pretend that he was my master and that I was his slave…”

“Oh my God, Harry!” It was Granger who had exclaimed this time. “That’s what you were calling him earlier wasn’t it? Master, dominus means master. Harry that’s awful, you have been abused. He has been abusing you.” 

Harry snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Hermione! Things were tough at first, for both of us, but it got better. It was the best way to hide. I didn’t have any Latin to begin with and he took care of me, looked after me. I was safer as a slave in Ancient Rome. You don’t know what it was like there, how they treated people. It was a totally different society – life had little value in those times. If Severus hadn’t been there… I don’t know what might have happened to me. One of my friends had his tongue cut out because he had a row with another child! Another friend was forced to have sex with men, forced to be a prostitute and he had no say in the matter, no hope of ever being free.

“When we first got there I felt so hopeless and frightened. I didn’t understand the language and I felt weak and vulnerable. My dominus, protected me.”

“You’ve been brainwashed, Harry.” Hermione said stiffly, “I know what’s wrong; you have developed something called ‘Stockholm Syndrome’. He took you and kept you safe, so now you identify with him, that’s all. You shouldn’t have to defer to him, call him master; you have rights again now, we can protect you.”

“Do you know how fucking stupid you sound, Hermione?” Harry said evenly. Granger gasped in shock.

“Now just wait a minute, Harry…” Weasley began.

“No! You, ‘wait a minute’,” Harry said furiously. “You don’t know what it was like for us, neither of you do. I have been away for four years, FOUR YEARS, in that time. You are trying to apply modern day mores to a pre-Christian culture, for Merlin’s sake. But Severus didn’t do that, he understood and he and I came to an understanding. I had to fit in, I had to pretend to be a slave and that meant working hard and being quiet and respectful and never talking back, so I did it. It was really difficult at first, but I managed. I never had to work as hard as I did at the Dursleys and I always, always got fed. Oh, yeah, and I had some fucking fantastic sex. He might be the ‘greasy git’ to you, but I love him and I’ll thank you not to insult him around me, or the pair of you can just piss off.”

The room lapsed into total silence at the end of Harry’s speech.

Granger spoke again. “I just don’t understand,” she said woefully. 

“I love him, that’s all you need to understand. What we did to survive and what we have together is actually none of your business. I told you so that you would have an idea about where we have been and why we have grown close, but if you aren’t prepared to help us both then we’ll manage without you.”

“Oh, Harry,” Granger’s voice cracked with emotion. “You were only gone for a few seconds, that’s all. It’s hard for us to believe that you went anywhere – though, of course, I do believe that you did. It’s just that he was always so horrible to you, to all of us, and… and… it all seems so strange somehow…” she trailed off her voice sounding young and fragile all of a sudden.

“Yeah, what she just said, mate,” Ron interjected waving his arm towards Hermione, but looking very sheepish as he did so.

“We care about you, Harry, that’s all,” she finally said.

“I’m sorry that it’s all such a shock, Hermione, Ron.” Harry said, “but I won’t have my dominus hurt.”

Severus was stunned, to say the least. He didn’t think he could move even if he wanted to. The way that Harry had defended him, and to his oldest friends, as well. Nobody had ever done that for Severus, not like Harry just had. His fierce Gryffindor hero, protecting him from the world. His throat felt like it was closing up with emotion and his eyes started to prickle and burn.

Granger was crying, Severus turned his head to look at the three friends, peering at them through his lashes. Harry was holding her and Weasley was sort of patting at her somewhat ineffectually.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Weasley said, “We’ll still be here for you, you know that? And if you’ve… uh… fallen in love with the Greas… with Severus Snape, then… I’ll support you. I’m not turning my back on you again, mate. Not ever.”

Granger had stopped crying now, she was blowing her nose, in a handful of tissues that Harry handed her.

“Me too, Harry,” she said with a sniff. “If you love him, then that’s all right with me. I’ll support you. But I’ll be watching, Harry, and if he doesn’t treat you properly, if he hurts you or if he’s nasty to you, then I will hex his bloody balls off!”

“Hermione!” Weasley said, shocked, but then he said no more, quelled under the fierce look that Granger gave him, and Severus couldn’t help but feel inordinately pleased that Granger had not been in Ancient Rome with them when they’d first arrived.

The two children didn’t stay much longer after that. They made some plans about getting back to England. Granger told Harry that Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem had been completely destroyed by the explosion. She also reassured him that there was strong magic in play because the entire scene at Caesar’s statue had gone unnoticed. There was no Death Eater activity either, so it seemed they were still safe, at least for now. 

Granger and Weasley got up to leave and Harry escorted them to the door, making plans for later that evening to include dinner and more discussion.

Severus felt stunned by the things Harry had said and eternally grateful that he hadn’t thought to use a silencing charm. Harry had given him such an insight into how he had felt in their early days together and, more importantly, how he felt about Severus now.

The bed dipped as Harry climbed on beside him. It was far too soft in Severus’ opinion and the sheets felt slimy with modern detergent, he felt a pang of loss for their bed back home. He deepened his breathing, continuing to feign sleep; he wasn’t ready to face Harry, yet, or so he told himself.

“You can stop pretending to be asleep now, Domine,” Harry said gently, leaning over and placing a kiss on Severus’ cheek.

Severus stiffened.

“How did you know?” he asked, unable to fathom how a spy with years of experience behind him hadn’t fooled a trio of children. 

“Because we were making enough noise to disturb the ferryman, and you don’t sleep that well!” laughed Harry, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Severus shifted again. It seemed strange to hear such a typical Roman phrase repeated in English.

“ _Do you mind if we speak Latin?_ ” he asked tentatively. _“It just makes me feel more at home.”_

“ _Me too, Domine._ ” Harry answered.

“ _You should call me Severus now, otherwise people might react like Miss Granger just did._ ” Severus whispered, losing all pretence that he hadn’t been listening.

_“Let ‘em,”_ Harry snorted. _“I could care less, I like calling you Domine. It’s what you are, after all.”_

_“Your dominus?”_ Severus asked.

_“My master, my teacher, the love of my life.”_ Harry replied.

Severus couldn’t help himself, a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and trickled down the side of his face to pool coolly in his ear.

_“Domine, are you crying?_ ” gasped Harry feeling concerned. _“Why would you cry?”_

_“I thought… I thought that now we are back you wouldn’t want me anymore.”_ stammered Severus hating himself for sounding so weak and pathetic.

Harry gave a soft chuckle. _“I do love you but you are such a daft prick sometimes. Why would being here change anything? Don’t you know me at all? You are the only person who has ever truly cared for me, looked after me in my entire life, Domine, and I am buggered if I am ever giving that, or you, up. Stupid git that you are, thinking such things!_

He gave Severus a very gentle slap, but then he stilled and gazed at him steadily. _“Domine, did you think this before we left, too?”_

Severus nodded, tightly.

_“And yet still you came. You found the spell and did all that research thinking that I wouldn’t want you any more?”_

Severus didn’t say or do anything. He had thought that, he had worried that Harry wouldn’t want him anymore.

_“Oh, Domine!”_ Harry exclaimed softly, _“I do love you so much!”_

Whilst he had been talking, Harry had been running his wand over Severus’ body, healing him, so that Severus felt pleasantly warm and blessedly pain free.

“ _How does that feel?_ ” Harry asked.

“ _Really, really good._ ” replied Severus.

“ _How do you feel about a little bit of celebration sex?”_

“ _Celebration!_ ” sneered Severus, a little bitterly. “ _What have we got to celebrate?_ ”

“ _I don’t know!_ ” Harry responded, sounding a little exasperated. “ _The fact that we are alive maybe? The fact that we didn’t end up in some twisted future? The fact that we still have each other?_

“ _Well, when you put it like that,_ ” Severus couldn’t help smirking, _“I suppose I can’t say no. But first I must visit the lavatory._ ”

“ _Well hurry up!_ ” Harry said cheekily. “ _I have a much better use to which you can put your cock._ ”

Severus got off the bed and stood rather shakily. Harry looked at him with his head on one side. “ _Are you still feeling a bit weak?_ ” he asked. “ _Looks like you got the brunt of the backlash from the spell this time. I don’t think I even have a bruise. Come on, lean on me.”_

Harry inserted himself under Severus’ arm and helped him into the tiny bathroom. While Severus was relieving himself, his lover started the shower water running and seemed to be having a hard time getting the temperature just right especially as the water pressure seemed to be really low. 

Severus smiled over at him. “ _Use your wand, Harry, cast Aqua Velociter._ ”

Harry smirked back over his shoulder. “ _I am going to have to get used to it again, aren’t I?”_ he said, taking the wand out of the wand holder on his belt. 

Octavius had made all the budding wizards wand holders accompanied by beautiful matching belts. He had learned leather-working in order to help out with goods to sell in the shop that he shared with his brother. He had gifted Harry and Severus with theirs before they had left. 

Harry he cast the spell and then stood back to admire his handy work. “ _That’s better, there wasn’t much more water than a dripping tap before! I’ll have to get used to using my wand automatically again, I wouldn’t have thought to if you hadn’t reminded me._ ” He undid Octavius’ belt and hoisted his tunic over his head, showing his perfect, slim body to its best advantage; and despite his tiredness and the aches and pains he seemed to be suffering, Severus’ cock hardened.

Harry’s smirk grew wider and he raised his eyebrows. “ _Well, somebody seems to be feeling a bit more lively. It’s amazing what a nice hot shower can do.”_ He turned around and began helping Severus to get out of his tunic. 

For a moment Severus felt disorientated. “Harry, wait, what will I do for clothes?” Severus’ own clothes from this time were presumably still in his own hotel room which was on the other side of the city. 

“Don’t worry, Domine. Ron gave me some stuff you can borrow and we’ll go and get your things later. Not that you need anything right now.” He ran a hand appreciatively over Severus’ buttocks, with a rather self-satisfied smile on his face. “Beautiful!” he murmured softly. Severus blushed. Harry often said things like that, treated Severus as if he were beautiful or precious. He couldn’t see how the boy could have found him attractive, could continue to do so but Harry obviously did.

 

The bathroom was very small indeed, and tiled in garish blue tiles. It lacked a window and the light bulb didn’t really give them enough illumination. So much for modern Muggle fittings! Severus thought, they had been far more comfortable bathing in their courtyard garden but they did both fit in the shower, just about.

Severus shivered with a thrill of delight as Harry began to soap his back, running his hands over Severus’ shoulders, placing tender kisses on the skin as it was washed clean.

Then Harry went to his knees, “Oh, Merlin!” Severus gasped. Harry was washing his cock, tenderly, lovingly.

“Wha…what are you doing?” 

“I’m washing you,” Harry replied with a small giggle. “After all, if any bits of you are going in my mouth then I am going to make sure they are clean.” 

Severus was about to respond, but for a short while he lost track of even the tiniest coherent thought. Harry had taken Severus in his mouth licking and sucking Severus’ cock with slow, deliberate motions, worshipping it with his lips and his tongue. Severus glanced down and saw Harry’s dark messy hair and the combination of that glimpse of the boy and the feel of Harry’s hot, wet mouth sucking and licking his cock nearly sent him over the edge. His knees went weak and he found himself pressed back against the clear glass wall of the shower.

“Oh, Merlin!” he moaned again. 

Harry stopped sucking his cock and started to kiss his way back up Severus’ body, licking at the water that was spraying them both, nibbling at the warm skin of Severus’ thighs and belly.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your cock?” Harry asked him, giving it a final loving lick, right at the tip. 

“Mlmph,” Severus said. Harry chuckled. “I even loved sucking it when we were first together. I never thought I would, but I did. I used to love the fact that I could make you come completely undone. Me, Harry Potter, could make you, Severus Snape go weak at the knees, could make you whimper and beg.

“You always seemed so strong, so capable and I was so frightened all the time, it was like being back at the Dursleys at first. I felt weak and useless, but when I was with you I felt safer, even when you didn’t like me I knew you would protect me.” Harry was speaking as he soaped Severus’ legs and washed his feet, Severus shivered, it was unbelievably erotic, having his lover wash him like this. 

Harry started licking his way up from Severus’ groin, nibbling the firm skin and Severus’ cock hardened further still. “Oh yes!” he murmured, laving the skin beneath the dark hairs that led up from Severus’ groin. “I do so love making you scream!” 

“Circe, Harry, what are you doing to me?” Severus finally managed to groan.

Harry stuck his tongue in Severus’ navel and replied, “checking you for injuries, Domine.”

He licked a nipple then murmured lasciviously against the pert little nub, “Hmm, I think I’ll need to see you lying down, just to be sure.” 

Severus chuckled, stepping out of the shower at Harry’s direction. He allowed his lover to dry him and then, a little less shakily than before, he allowed himself to be led back to the bed. 

Harry straddled his legs, and ran his hands over Severus’ hips and along his torso. “Well that all seems fine, but there is this rock hard protuberance sticking up here,” said the boy while running his hands over the turgid flesh. “That can’t be very comfortable, we’ll have to see what we can do about it!”

Severus chuckled again. “Is that what you are calling it now? A protuberance?”

“And what would my dominus call it?” Harry questioned, looking quizzical.

“A cock?” smiled Severus.

“Hmm,” Harry purred, “my dominus is so very wise. And how do we take care of it? Do we put it inside me, perhaps? Maybe I could sit on it?”

“Oh, sweet Merlin!” Severus gasped as the cock in question got even harder.

Harry took out some oil, though where he had been keeping it, Severus had no idea, and began slathering it all over Severus’ cock.

Severus whimpered, he thought that he had lost the power of speech.

Harry manoeuvred himself until he was in position and then carefully began to lower himself down until he was sitting on Severus’ groin with his cock buried deep in his arse.

“Oh, Domine!” Harry gasped, “Oh, sweet Venus, that feels so good!” Then he began to move and Severus felt like weeping, it was so wonderful. He felt so close to Harry; he was so deep inside the boy. Harry’s anus began to tighten around him as the boy impaled himself on Severus, further and further, letting gravity do most of the work. 

Until, suddenly, the boy gasped again and stiffened. Severus opened his eyes, which had been tightly closed, and looked up at the vision before him. The boy was so beautiful, he looked so wanton sitting there on top of him, pinning him down, wrapped around his cock. His head was thrown back, exposing a long, tanned neck, Severus could see the gentle curve of Harry’s chin and his pert pink nipples, hard and aroused.

They weren’t the only things that were hard and aroused he thought with a chuckle. He reached up and caressed one of those adorable nipples, thinking of the times he had licked them, nibbled them, held them in his mouth. Very gently he squeezed. Harry gasped and gazed down at him and then it was Severus’ turn to gasp.

Harry’s eyes were so full of love, of passion that Severus was completely undone. In the next instant he was coming hard, shooting hot liquid inside of Harry, and Harry was coming, too, all over Severus stomach, bathing him in warmth.

Finally, Harry lay forward, nestling against Severus’ hot, damp skin. He wriggled and gazed up at Severus. “Hmm, I don’t know,” he chided. “You’re all dirty again, a slave’s job is never done, huh?”

Severus began to laugh. He felt so much better. When they had first arrived he had thought his life was over, and in truth it might not last much longer. But for now he had Harry and his life was good. Severus remembered Modia’s advice, advice he had tried to live by ever since. Enjoy what you have and don’t worry about the rest. _Carpe diem._ Then he realised he had been thinking in English, thinking and talking in English for at least the last half hour.

“Harry?” he said, “did you realise that we have been speaking English?” 

“Hmm?” Harry said. “Have we, I didn’t notice.”

The boy had almost been asleep, but now he propped himself up on his arm and gazed down at Severus, his eyes full of something that Severus couldn’t quite define. 

“Do you know how brilliant you are Domine?” Harry asked. Severus was puzzled.

“What made you ask that?” he said quizzically. 

“I don’t know,” Harry said, shrugging lightly. “I guess that when I was trying to tell, Ron and Hermione why I loved you, it made me think more deeply about things. About how amazing you are. You developed a spell that could get us back, made a potion, created a device that no one has ever even heard of. That’s how clever you are.

“I think that I fell in love with your cleverness long before I fell in love with you. When I was in sixth year I had this mad crush on the Half-Blood Prince, because, you know, you were right and I did have your book.”

Severus smirked and told himself that he had every right to be a little self-satisfied, he had been correct all along, however hard Harry had denied it back then he HAD found Severus’ potions diary.

“You look so smug now, smarty pants!” Harry said with a chuckle, kissing him on the nose.

“The Half-Blood Prince seemed so romantic! He was brilliant, and funny and acerbic and I really wished that I could meet him. Anyhow, in Rome I got to know the real Half-Blood Prince I got to know the sweet, kind man beneath all the snark and that’s why I fell in love with you. You are so clever, so funny and so brave! All those spells you created all those dry little comments you come up with that make me laugh. Do you know how amazing you are?”

Severus swallowed hard. “I… Harry… I… I love you, too. You are…”

“Hush,” Harry said, placing a finger on Severus’ lips. “I know how you feel about me, my dominus. I know you love me. It’s just that things might get really hard here, and we probably don’t have long together. So I am going to enjoy every single moment of what we do have, and I want you to know how much I love you… for, you know, after I’m gone.” Then he snuggled against Severus and moments later he was asleep.

But Severus couldn’t sleep. He had forgotten… how could he forget? Albus Dumbledore had said that Harry had to die in order to defeat the Dark Lord. He had to DIE. And with that thought, his arm began to throb, just a little. He looked down at the offending limb and saw that the dark Mark, which had been absent for the last four years, was back.

Harry was right, they probably didn’t have very much longer. He wrapped his arms tightly around the boy he had come to love more than life itself, wishing with all his heart they were back in Ancient Rome, safe in a ramshackle building tucked away in a narrow alley, deep in a dusty, ancient city, which would always seem like home and which was lost to them both, forever. 

 

**********


	9. chapter nine

A/N as I said before there is an epilogue which is nearly finished, but this part of the story is complete. There is some dialogue from the Deathly Hallows in this chapter, but the storyline and the changes to canon are my own.

 

Chapter nine

 

Three days later Severus stood outside the familiar gates of Hogwarts, feeling nothing but a deep melancholy at being here. This had always been home to him before, a sanctuary, but no longer could he feel that way. This was probably where Harry would die, would give his life to defeat the Dark Lord. Severus didn’t know how he had survived the last few days. By staying in denial, he thought, by pretending that this was not happening and by ruthlessly tamping down any tendrils of worry that might suggest that without Harry he might as well be dead - would want to be dead, in fact.

He felt so different in the here and now, buttoned up, as he was again, in his familiar dark clothing. It was almost as if the Severus who had lived in Rome, the one who wore a lose linen tunic and a handmade leather belt, was the figment of his imagination. In fact, their whole stay in the past seemed more and more like a dream. If it had not been for Harry – Harry’s hands on his skin, Harry’s kisses on his lips – he would have been hard pressed to believe that he had Harry in his life either.

They had taken the train from Rome to Callais and then ridden the ferry to Dover. During the journey homeward, and in the company of the Trio, he had felt all right, practically normal, in fact. Harry’s determinedly positive attitude had helped him stay positive, too. But at Dover Severus had been careful to separate from Harry and his friends just as soon as the ferry had docked on English soil.

So Harry was not with him as he approached the school. The three were making their own way North, and had hopefully already arrived in Hogsmeade, Harry was making his way to the school via one of the secret passages. They had arranged to reunite inside the castle, that is, once Severus had called the school together and disposed of the dreadful Carrows. Now that was something he was looking forward to. 

As it turned out he was eternally thankful he’d had such foresight. In Dover he had stopped for something to eat and it was there he had literally run into Marcus Flint, a young man whose father had been a staunch supporter of the Dark Lord last time round and one who had eagerly followed his father’s footsteps into the Dark wizard’s service as soon as he rose again, not long after the boy had left Hogwarts.

Normally Severus felt a deep pang of sadness when one of his Slytherins joined the Dark Lord’s service, but when Marcus had been initiated he had felt no surprise whatsoever. 

“You’ve returned then Severus, to welcome our master to Hogwarts?” the slimy young man had said. He had gone on to inform Severus, somewhat smugly, that the Dark Lord had finally assembled his army and was planning an attack the following day. 

Severus had sent a message to Harry. He had met the Trio in secret at a tiny cottage which had appeared to be constructed of shells. A plan of action had been formulated between them; one that he was about to begin as soon as he reached the school. He had been hugely relieved to find the Dark Lord’s forces had not yet arrived and he had time to implement the plans he hoped would keep the school safe.

As he walked up to the school, Severus tried to allow himself to do as Harry did, which was to try and find pleasure in whatever he did, even if it was only capturing the odious Death Eaters who had tortured the children in his school. 

Whilst thinking these varied thoughts, he had been walking up the long twisting driveway that led to the school’s front entrance. He wearily climbed the final set of steps only to halt suddenly, his jaw dropping in stunned surprise. The heavy, wooden doors opened for him, automatically, as if welcoming him home.

Severus shivered. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. In all the time after Albus’ death, Severus’ colleagues had treated him with distain; all apart from the Carrows, that was, and they hated him anyway. The innate magic of the school had allowed him to be Headmaster but, somehow, things had been difficult, little things always going wrong. It had never welcomed like this before.

As he walked into the entrance hall Minerva McGonagall was coming down the stairs and Severus almost smiled, she hadn’t changed at all. But then he chided himself, why would she have changed? In this time he had only been gone for just under a week, supposedly visiting a symposium for Headmasters of Magical schools at a hotel in the Hague.

But in truth, he had been away for much longer than that and he was a far different man from the one who had left one short week ago. He had discovered profound love and happiness since he had last been here. And even if fate decreed that was about to come to an end, he knew the experience had fundamentally changed him forever.

“Good morning, Minerva,” he said evenly.

She scowled at him and nodded curtly. “Professor Snape,” she said, making his name sound like a curse. 

He remembered how hurt he had been by her reaction and that of his colleagues after he had killed Dumbledore. He could understand the reaction, for they had no way of knowing he had killed the Headmaster on his own orders, nor could they know he wasn’t the Death Eater he appeared to be. Still, it had hurt that they could believe the worst of him so readily. 

She, of course, had known almost from the start that it was he who had cast the spell which killed the old man, and not Harry as Rita Skeeter and others would have everyone believe. She and Filius Flitwick, both members of the Order of the Phoenix, had seen him flee the school and communicated their intense dislike and distrust to the other teachers as well as other Order members. 

The ten months that he had been Headmaster had, therefore, been a lonely time for Severus. He had not realised before how much he had enjoyed the somewhat formal interactions that he had been used to, until they had disappeared. He sighed, it had been a very difficult year, trying to curb the worst excesses of the Carrows without letting the Dark Lord realise what he was doing. He had felt torn so many times, trying to protect the students as much as he could without alerting anyone to his actions. 

His idea of warding the Room of Requirement so the children would be safe there had been a masterstroke, one that had occurred to him in the wee small hours one night when he couldn’t sleep. The wards allowed the children to come and go in relative safety while at the same time keeping the Carrows away. It had taken a good deal of time and complex spell casting to be specific enough to keep out all those unwanted while allowing entrance to all those who needed protection. This was a school after all and not a private dwelling, where such charms were normally used, but it had done well enough.

Minerva was still scowling and Severus sighed again. He had become used to the friendliness and admiration of his neighbours and friends in Rome. For a brief second he felt awash from an intense wave of loneliness but viciously tamped it down, steeling himself against it, now was not the time. He could ill afford to let himself be swamped with emotion, otherwise, with all the things that he was trying not to feel right now, he could easily be overwhelmed.

“I would like you to gather all the students in the Great Hall, if you please,” he told the woman whom he had once almost considered a friend.

“But it is mid-morning, they are all at lessons.”

“It was not a request, Minerva.” 

The look that she shot him was filled with pure venom.

He turned away from Minerva, effectively dismissing her and strode into the Great Hall. It had been so long since he had been here. He was struck again by the beauty of the huge room with its richly decorated, carved oak panels. It reminded him somewhat of the glorious buildings in Rome, the ones in the forum that he had taken Harry and Apisus to visit. 

He remembered the day they had gone to watch the great Cicero defend a case in the law courts and how they had sat outside afterwards and eaten fresh figs in the hot sunshine. The wave of homesickness that hit him this time, almost caused him to stagger. He took a deep breath to calm himself and looked upwards instead, the enchanted ceiling reflected the pale blue spring sky and that helped him regain his control.

He was already seated at the top table when the school began to file in. He watched them in silence as they moved to their house tables. They were much depleted in number as the Muggle-borns were here no longer and a number of pureblood or halfblood families had taken their children away from the cruelty of the Carrows. Even if Harry did defeat the Dark Lord, he wondered if the school could ever recover. 

The children were nervous, quite justifiably in Severus’ opinion considering how difficult things had become. He waited until everyone was sitting down, including the teachers and then cleared his throat.

“I have much to tell you,” he said. “But before I continue I want you all to place your hands on the table in front of you.” A loud murmuring broke out and Severus had to shout to be heard above the noise. “Do it now, or I shall have to begin hexing you.”

Throughout the hall there was a strange rustling sound as all the children who were present placed their hands on the table as directed.

Severus turned to the teachers. “You also.” 

The Carrows looked at each other and shrugged. They were nasty and vicious, Severus told himself, but they were also unbelievably stupid.

Once every one had done as directed Severus raised his wand and wordlessly cast _Affigo_ , effectively sticking everyone’s hands to the table in front of them.

The hall erupted in a cacophony of noise. Severus watched for a moment longer the dawning horror on the faces of children and teachers alike.

He stood patiently whilst all around him people shouted and pleaded and swore at him, until finally they began to realise that he was not about to release anyone and slowly began to quieten down.

“As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, it is my duty to keep you all safe. I have been made aware that the Dark Lord’s forces are currently marching on the school.”

The room erupted again, this time in blind panic. Several people screamed and at least one third year Hufflepuff fainted.

“SILENCE!” Severus bellowed. 

There were several gasps and someone began to cry, but otherwise Severus got his wish and the school did indeed grow silent.

Amycus Carrow spoke first. “Oh, very clever, Severus, you have effectively imprisoned the entire school. But why did you trap us too? Shall I go and open the doors for our master?” 

_“Silencio.”_ Severus said aiming his wand at Amycus first and then Alecto, effectively smothering her strangled squeak.

“I am not planning on letting him enter.” Severus said clearly. This time there was total quiet at his words and Severus felt the astonishment settle like a thick woollen blanket. Several jaws dropped, he had obviously been very effective in his disguise. Everyone in this hall truly believed him to be a Death Eater.

“But Professor Snape?” It was Malfoy who had spoken. Severus did not have time for questions and he only had to silence three more people in order for total quiet to reign. The entire hall seemed poised, waiting for him to speak. Confusion warred with fear in the faces staring up at him and Severus knew it was time to tell them the truth.

He had agreed with Harry the night before, when they were squeezed together in a narrow bed in the tiny attic of Shell Cottage, exactly what he would say. He would tell everyone of his work with Harry, work aimed at improving his spell casting skills and helping prepare the boy for his fight against the evil wizard. There would be no mention of Rome or of their relationship. Severus had insisted. There was no need to tell people things they couldn’t and wouldn’t believe.

 

“He-who-must-not-be-named,” Severus began, using the more common name for Voldemort, the one that was not usually used by Death Eaters. He was not going to risk using the booby trapped ‘Voldemort’, not even here in Hogwarts where he should be safe. He wanted to demonstrate that the subterfuge was over, Death Eaters always called him the Dark Lord. Severus was about to tell the truth, or a version of it, at least.

 

“He-who-must-not-be-named, is marching on the school,” Severus continued into the silence. “He wants to take it over completely and I will not let him do that. I have been working for years to prevent him winning and I am not about to surrender now.”

There were gasps all around him, but he heard Minerva’s sharp intake of breath most clearly of all.

“But… Albus?” Minerva asked.

Severus turned and gazed at her, steadily. “I did as he directed me to do. As I always have,” he said simply.

There were more gasps at this and a low buzz of conversation broke out.

“QUIET!” Severus shouted.

“I…” he began. But he got no further, the doors to the Great Hall flew open and Harry and a number of his friends poured in. The numbers were greater than Severus expected, there were an assortment of students whom Severus had barely seen for the last part of the term, students who included, Seamus Finnegan and Neville Longbottom. They had gradually stopped coming to most of their classes and had instead been hiding away in the Room of Requirement. They were here now though, supporting Harry. He was also accompanied by a motley assortment of ex-pupils, including the Weasley twins, Oliver Wood, Lee Jordan and several others. Molly Weasley came, too, and Arthur, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks and a goodly number of Order members.

In the lead, fairly bouncing with energy, was Harry.

“See, I told you he would have everything under control,” Harry was saying to one of the Weasleys. 

Pandemonium reigned and even the use of _Sonorous_ was ineffective in controlling it for some considerable time. The hall had fairly erupted with noise at the sight of Harry Potter, looking incredibly well and healthy and, despite all the recent rumours flying about recently, very much alive. Finally, Severus cast _Quietus_ instead because at least it lessoned the noise.

Harry distributed his raggle-taggle army around the room and moved forwards apparently planning to stand beside Severus. There were several resentful looks cast in Severus’ direction which made him realise that many of them had allied themselves to Harry and were trusting him now, but that it would take a long time for Severus to be forgiven, if indeed, they ever did forgive him.

Harry had reached his side and he linked his arm through Severus’ own, stood on tip-toe and kissed him. This time there was total uproar, over which even the _Quietus_ spell apparently had no power to quell.

“Harry!” Severus said, frustrated. “Have you no decorum? Do you realise that you have effectively outted us to the entire wizarding world? I thought we agreed to wait?”

“Nope!” Harry countered with a grin. “You wanted to wait, so I was going to go along with it. But people were saying such nasty things about you, it was either hex them or kiss you.” He kissed Severus again, more deeply this time. “I thought you’d be proud of my restraint. Besides which, we are about to go into battle; who knows how it will end and I don’t give a damn what they think. I am laying my arse on the line for them and if they don’t like it then they can just fuck off!”

“You are an incorrigible brat! You know that, don’t you?” Severus told him fondly.

“I’m your brat!” Harry said, and then he turned to face the hall.

Slowly people quieted, the outraged shouts turned to a mumble and Severus began to speak again.

“As you can all see, Harry and I have grown very close.”

There were some rather ribald comments at that statement, and Minerva just murmured, “Oh, Severus.”

There was no time to ask her what she meant, so he simply ignored her.

Slowly he began to explain to the school what his plans were. There was a very safe floo in the Headmaster’s study and Severus was going to send the younger children home using that. He also promised that anyone else who wanted to go would be allowed to do so. They merely had to say the word _Caeruleum Orbus_ and a blue globe would hover above their heads, identifying who they were so they could be released and sent home.

He also explained that there would be exceptions. All children below fourth year would be sent to safety, irregardless of whether they wished to be or not. All Slytherins in fifth, sixth and seventh years, however, would have no choice but to stay. They would be confined to the dungeons where they would be safe. There were several cries of protest from his old house at such treatment. But as far as Severus could see it was the best way to protect them. He could do little else for these children, who had so often been forced into situations that they couldn’t control and did not agree with. 

“What if we want to join fight? What if we don’t want He-who-should-not-be-named to win?” It was Blaise Zabini who had spoken.

Severus felt a surge of pride. He thought very few people understood what his Slytherins had to suffer. So many families had been torn apart by the war and for the Slytherin children there was often no escape. Forced by circumstances to support a cause not necessarily their own, they often had to pretend to support Voldemort or find themselves hunted by family and erstwhile friends.

He smiled at Zabini. “Then, of course, we would be delighted to have you,” he told the young man. 

In the end twenty-two Slytherin’s from fifth, sixth and seventh years stayed to join the battle, and the others went easily enough to the dungeons. Harry took Draco Malfoy’s arm for the trip to the downstairs and Severus was touched to see how gentle Harry was with the other boy. Malfoy didn’t fight, he just seemed rather relieved to be sitting out the battle. Even Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson, who had been ringleaders of the torture squad initiated by the Carrows, went without too much of a fight. Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan took Goyle, who was crying noisily by this time, in a firm grip to prevent any last minute escape attempts.

Longbottom turned to Severus before leading Goyle out of the hall. “I didn’t altogether believe Harry when he told us about you. I thought he was Confunded or deluded or something,” the boy spoke sombrely but without stuttering. “But you are on our side, aren’t you?”

Severus nodded.

“I don’t have to like you, though; you have been a right bastard to me,” Neville continued in a stronger and slightly more accusatory voice.

“Indeed I have, Mr. Longbottom,” Severus said seriously, “I always treated you in a very shabby way, and for that I am truly sorry.”

The boy’s mouth dropped open in shock and Severus could almost read his thoughts: ‘Severus Snape is being nice to me!’

“Before you go,” he continued, speaking as kindly as he could manage but with his patented smirk firmly in place as he addressed both Longbottom and Finnegan, “I just wanted to tell you how impressed I have been by your bravery and loyalty to the Light and your continued resistance against the Dark forces in these most difficult of circumstances. Please take one-hundred and fifty points each for Gryffindor.” 

This comment drew almost as many gasps from those listening to the conversation as Harry’s kiss had done. Severus chuckled wryly to himself, finding almost as much pleasure from confounding the students as he had from terrifying them. They would all get over their astonishment soon, now that all the revelations were over at last. 

 

***********

 

The morning wore on and became afternoon. Severus felt comforted by the fact that so many people were prepared to work together and by the fact that his Harry was nearby, seemingly everywhere at once, energised by the fact their plan was coming to fruition at last. This was the Chosen One, meeting his destiny head on – this was his Harry, finally respected for what he truly was, in a way that he never could have achieved in Ancient Rome. Somewhere inside Severus, however, lurked the knowledge that although he was happy to see Harry being respected as he deserved, Harry, himself, cared little for this accolade. All Harry really wanted in this life, and Severus too, if he were being completely honest, was to find happiness and contentment, surrounded by his lover and family and friends.

Finally, at three o’clock, Neville and Seamus came racing into the Great Hall. “They’re here! They’re coming,” the two announced breathlessly.

Silence fell for several seconds and then there was a tremendous crash. The battle had begun.

For a long time the castle was bombarded. Explosions rattled the windows and at some point the enchanted ceiling shattered into a million tiny fragments, raining down in myriad coloured shards on anyone unlucky enough to still be rushing about below.

A wall in the entrance hall was breached and a number of Death Eaters forced their way in, shooting hexes in every direction. Severus ducked a particularly vicious slashing hex and dashed over to a group of reinforcements from the Order of the Phoenix, who had just arrived. They swelled even further the ever increasing trickle of people, including Ministry of Magic Auror’s as well as many witches and wizards who wanted to join the fight for freedom from evil, who had been joining them all afternoon. Severus learned they were entering through a tunnel in the Room of Requirement, the end of which was apparently hidden behind a portrait in the Hogs Head. 

The corridors grew ever more full as the steady stream of those keen to join the battle arrived and still the hexes flew hot and heavy and deadly.

At one point Severus could see the Weasleys arguing in a hallway ahead of him. Molly seemed furious that the twins had somehow brought their sister along to join the battle. She was trying to force her daughter to re-enter the tunnel that led back to the Hogs Head. Suddenly, Percy Weasley arrived pink and flushed. He was hugging his mother and she was laughing seemingly oblivious to the spells flying by. The family were completely engaged in their reunion, dangerous behaviour during a battle. They didn’t see the Death Eater who crept up behind them with his wand raised.

It was Marcus Flint. He was aiming his wand at Fred Weasley, a hex hovering on his lips; but Severus struck first and the wand flew out of Flint’s hand as Severus’ spell hit him. He threw himself to the ground in an attempt to retrieve it. Severus didn’t quite understand why he felt such a sense of satisfaction as he stood on the hand, crushing it beneath his feet, causing the young man to yell in agony.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to use that for a while,” Severus sneered smugly whilst picking up the wand and adding it to the growing collection in his pocket. He bound the sobbing man with an _Incarcerous_ spell, before turning around to face the Weasley brothers. 

“Thanks Professor, you saved my life,” Fred told him, holding out his hand. “I guess I owe you an apology for all the things I called you over the years.” Taking the offered hand, Severus nodded gravely.

“I guess we all do,” added George quietly. 

Severus looked away. “I am sorry about the spell that hit you,” he said apologetically to the young Weasley, “I was aiming for the Death Eater, that attacked you.”

George smiled wryly. “No worries Professor! I think that losing an ear makes me look rakish.” 

There was another explosion at the large window on the stairs and the boys turned away, reunion forgotten for a moment. It was time to rejoin the battle elsewhere.

 

************

 

There was a scream from further down the corridor and Severus ran in that direction, determined to do his part to rescue as many people as he could. Yaxley had someone pinned down. Severus got a glimpse of bright pink hair. Then things happened so fast he barely had time to react. A yelling figure was running from the opposite end of the passage towards the woman. In a flash Severus saw the Death Eater transfer his aim to the man, hitting him square in the chest, with a vicious cutting curse. Then Tonks was screaming as Remus Lupin fell, brought down by a hex meant for her. 

“NO!” she wailed hysterically over and over, as she fell to her knees beside her lover, oblivious to her surroundings.

Then it was Severus’ turn to scream. Yaxley had raised his wand again, taking aim at the defenceless Auror, who, fool that she was, only had eyes for Lupin.

This time his Sectumsempra found its target and the man’s hand was severed before he could finish the curse. Tonks still seemed oblivious to what had happened, she was sitting with her husband’s head in her lap, stroking his hair and crooning softly. Severus knew it was too late for Remus Lupin, even from this distance he could tell that the man was dead. So that was it and the Marauders were history now. 

Harry had told him that Peter Pettigrew had died defying the Dark Lord. His monstrous hand had killed the miserable little rat as he had hesitated just long enough for Harry to get away. Severus could not help feeling relieved that, upon his return, he had decided not to enact his role of spy any longer beside the crazed monster that had once been Tom Riddle; the man was becoming increasingly careless with his supporters right now. If Severus had gone to him, rather than return to the school, perhaps he would not have survived either.

Severus really didn’t care all that much about the werewolf, but he knew Harry would be devastated. The man was the last of the marauders, the last contact that Harry had with his father. Severus knew that was a role he could not fill as far as Harry was concerned. He had hated James, almost as much as he loved Lily. But somewhere over the last four years, he had forgiven James Potter, or at least made peace with his memory of the man. 

Somehow, if they made it through, Severus would tell Harry all the nice things he knew about his father. He grimaced, yes, there were a few such memories tucked away in his mind. The Gryffindor had been horrible to him, true, but he had been a good friend to Lupin and Black. He had helped and supported Peter Pettigrew, which in Severus’ opinion made the odious man’s defection even worse. James had been a bully at school, but he had never really gotten the chance to grow up and make amends. From all accounts, he had been a good father and loved his son very much. Severus had observed them together once, at an Order meeting; James had held the boy with such wonder, gazed at him with such love in his eyes. Severus had hated the man even more passionately at that moment, he’d had what Severus figured he would never have – a family, two people who loved him unconditionally.

But James Potter was dead, had been for a very long time. He had never lived to see his son grow up and become the wonderful man he was today. Severus had won in the end. He shivered. It haunted him that Harry was currently about the same age that his father had been when he died. Oh Merlin, he was so very young, and so had James been. It was finally time to forgive and forget.

Tonks was crying again, wailing really, a dreadful heart wrenching sound. Severus hadn’t seen the werewolf for sometime, but he knew that the man had a son of his own. He had been showing pictures to the Weasleys earlier. Damned stupid thing to do in a battle, but here was another father who would never see his child grow. At least this time he could save the baby’s mother, as a sort of penance, for failing to do so for Lily and Harry. 

Fred Weasley stumbled over, his hair was full of dust from the explosion which had taken place earlier. He had a large jagged cut on one cheek and Severus thought there was no way the twins would ever be confused with each other again. They both carried their battle scars visible for the world to see, but at least they had both survived. Lee Jordan, caught up with his friend and together they made their way over a pile of rubble to where Severus stood.

He left the twins to keep an eye on Tonks. She appeared prostrate with grief, far too distressed to watch out for her own safety. Severus had confidence these two young men would be up to the task. They could also deal with the screaming Death Eater, whose hand he had severed. Severus hoped they wouldn’t staunch the bleeding too quickly or give the man anything for his pain. Yaxley deserved to suffer a little, he had been very fond of torture himself, Severus remembered.

Finally, he went in search of Harry.

Instead he found Bill Weasley, standing by the breach in the wall.

“They are retreating,” he said in wonder. “I think we might have won.”

At that moment a sound echoed through the halls, a sound that chilled Severus to the very bone. A cold, high laugh rang out. It echoed with joy, with satisfaction.

Severus felt that his blood had turned to ice in his veins.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked, seeing Granger running towards him. 

She stopped dead in her tracks. Apart from the dust generated by the series of explosions, there was no sound, no movement at all. Nothing but the gentle fall of miniscule dark grains, which were settling around them like fine, grey snow. For what seemed like hours, but could only truly have been seconds, no one spoke. 

“I thought he was with you.” Granger finally gasped, turning an ashen grey.

“He should have been with you! I told him to stay with you!” Severus sounded panicked now, slightly hysterical he knew.

“Harry?” he whispered, knowing that the boy would have no way of hearing him. Severus felt lost, hopelessly empty. In his heart he knew that Harry, his Harry, his strong vibrant lover, was gone. 

A phantom appeared before them, staggering out of the dust, keening softly. Her long hair, which should have been red, lacked all colour and was streaked with grey.

“Ginny?” Weasley said. “Are you all right?”

The girl sobbed, “No, no, no! He-who-should-not-be-named has got Mum, he threatened to torture her, if Harry didn’t come. He held her under the Cruciatus curse for what seemed like hours, she was screaming. 

“He sent me to fetch Harry, and when I told Harry what had happened, he just left, he went to fight him, he went to give himself up, he sacrificed himself for us.” the girl rasped, her voice sounded rusty, her throat clogged with dust. “I’m sorry, so sorry, it was our fault, we just weren’t careful enough. The Death Eaters caught us as Mum was trying to get us out of the school. But we got captured instead. He taunted Harry didn’t you hear him? Harry went to him, he said he’d get my Mum back, they went into the forest…” 

Severus wanted to slap the girl, pummel her till she fell to the ground bleeding. How could they have been so foolish? There were safe places set up, the Slytherin Dungeons for one. They could have been safe there. And Severus hadn’t been there, hadn’t been around when Harry needed him. Hadn’t heard the Dark Lord call him, would not have allowed Harry to go if he had.

“Harry’s gone,” the Weasley girl cried, hysteria rising in her voice. “I think that He-who-should-not-be-named has murdered him and it is all my fault.”

The laughing that echoed in the still afternoon air, grew louder, much louder and this time it was accompanied by words. Each one was like a knife in his heart.

“I’ve killed him! He is dead, your precious boy, your brilliant hero. So easy to kill, no challenge at all! Come out, come out all of you it’s over and he has lost. I am victorious.”

Time - which Severus had come to understand so well in the past four years – seemed to slow down and Severus heard everything as if it were muffled, as though he were at the end of a long tunnel. He staggered outside, people were streaming out of castle with no one to stop them. Severus didn’t bother, what would be the point? Voldemort had won and Harry, his Harry was dead.

Hagrid came out of the forest, in his arms there was a figure, someone who looked so fragile, so insubstantial, so broken.

“Harry!” Severus didn’t speak the word, he breathed it, as if it were the last of his oxygen, as if now that he had spoken Harry’s name all hope of life was gone.

Hagrid was crying. Loud heart wrenching sobs that echoed around the grounds and bounced off the forest. Severus fell to his knees. As if watching a Muggle film in slow motion, Severus stared at the scene in front of him. Harry was laid on the ground and Narcissa went over to him. Severus’ heart lurched, he wanted to go to Harry, didn’t they know that Harry would get cold, lying on the ground? He wasn’t used to the temperature here yet, he was used to the warmth of Rome. Dimly in the background he heard Bella’s cruel words, she was taunting someone? Laughing cruelly. Who could it be? Then Neville Longbottom, had been called before the Dark Lord. He was arguing with the monstrous creature.

Then Neville’s scream pierced his befuddlement. Neville was on fire, that’s why he was screaming. Severus cast _Aguamenti,_ on the boy. Now the Dark Lord turned to him, red eyes, gimlet sharp, burning into Severus’ own.

“Severussss,” he hissed, “you have betrayed me, I shall kill you next, your death will be long and slow.”

Severus didn’t care about that, how could he care, he had nothing left, he had no Harry left. Many years ago Severus had created a tiny ball of fast acting, very potent poison. He’d had a tooth hollowed out and it had resided there ever since. He had once read that this was what Muggle spies had used as a last resort, during the last, big Muggle war.

He teased it out now and hid it under his tongue.

“Do you think I care what you do to me?” he told the twisted specimen before him. “Now that Harry is dead, I don’t want to live anyway.”

Voldemort screamed. He drew his wand and blasted Severus backwards, off his feet so that he smashed into the ground, several feet away.

Then Voldemort was screaming again. Somehow Neville Longbottom was holding Godric Gryffindor’s sword and he had raised it above his head. With a strangled scream he brought it down on Nagini, killing her in an instant.

“NOOOOOOO!” Voldemort bellowed, his anguish obvious for all to hear.

Severus pulled himself to his feet, his limbs felt heavy, as if they were encased in lead. But he began to move forward anyway. Harry was dead, true, but Nagini had been the last Horcrux, of that Dumbledore had been certain. So Tom Riddle was just a man again. Harry couldn’t carry out his allotted task any longer, He was lost. But Severus could, he could do this last thing for Harry. He would kill Tom Riddle in Harry’s name.

A shout from Hagrid, cut into his determination, “HARRY, HARRY, WHERE’S HARRY?”

Harry had vanished, he was not lying on the ground any longer. “Harry?” Severus stopped, confused for a moment, and Voldemort, who had also been peering at the giant, saw him instead. 

“Still here, Severus?” he chuckled maliciously, “Ah, well, you’ll be next to die.” 

He raised his wand ready to strike Severus down, “Ava.. 

“Protego!” roared Harry, and a Shield Charm expanded in front of them all, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

Severus lowered his wand and a smirk curved his thin lips.

Harry!

Shouts of happiness and wild cheers echoed all around them.

Severus wanted to shout for joy too, Harry was alive, he wasn’t dead. Severus wanted to go to him, hold him. But Harry and Voldemort were circling each other.

“Harry,” he shouted, ready to go forward, to defend and protect his boy.

“No, Domine, I don’t want anyone else to try to help.” Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. “It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.”

Voldemort hissed.

“Potter doesn’t mean that,” he said, his red eyes wide. “That isn’t how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?”

“Nobody,” said Harry simply. “There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good. . . .”

For what seemed an eternity Voldemort and Harry engaged in a battle of words, Voldemort boasting of his cleverness, Harry countering him at every turn.

“I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!”

“You thought you did,” said Harry, “but you were wrong.”

For the first time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around them drew breath as one.

“Dumbledore is dead!” Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as though they would cause him unendurable pain. “His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle. I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!”

”Yes, Dumbledore’s dead,” said Harry calmly, “but you didn’t have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant.”

“What childish dream is this?” said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry’s. 

“Severus Snape wasn’t yours,” said Harry. “He was Dumbledore’s, from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can’t understand.

“And what is it you say I do not understand, you arrogant child?”

“Severus loved my mother, he loves me, too. He was Dumbledore’s spy from the moment you threatened us, and he’s been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Severus Snape finished him!”

Voldemort screamed. He rambled on about the elder wand that he was brandishing, about his cleverness in stealing it from Dumbledore’s tomb. But Harry had already explained this to Severus, the wand had never truly belonged to Voldemort. It had been taken from Dumbledore by Draco Malfoy, and won by Harry in his turn. 

He told Voldemort this now; he explained that the wand would not defeat him, because Voldemort had never taken it from its true master, Harry himself.

Voldemort screamed again, he sounded completely demented now. He raised the wand that he held and Harry reciprocated, pointing Draco’s wand at his foe.

Severus wanted to rush forward, push Harry out of the way as Lupin had done for Tonks. But he could not move, he had to allow this. He had given up everything that he held dear for this moment – to give Harry the chance to fulfil his destiny. 

“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort bellowed.

“NO!” Severus screamed, as the green jet of light flew towards Harry. He bit down hard in his anguish and felt something pop and his mouth filled with bitter liquid.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry said in calmer tones.

The spells collided in mid air, Voldemort’s wand was wrenched from his hand and spiralled into the afternoon sunshine. There was an enormous bang and Voldemort crumpled, fell to his knees and then collapsed in upon himself like a pack of cards.

He was dead. But Harry stood strong and tall, holding both the wands in his hand.

There was a thundering noise in Severus’ ears and everything began to look blurred, the world spun and then went dark and Severus knew no more.

 

**********

 

“…Wake up then?” It was Harry’s voice. It sounded concerned, anxious. Why was Harry anxious? He had killed the Dark Lord hadn’t he? Severus remembered that.

So what was he anxious about?

“Harry?” he croaked, “Harry?” Harry whirled around, Severus could see him across the room, he was talking to Poppy Pomfrey.

“Domine?” Harry breathed.

Then the boy was beside him, tenderly stroking his forehead. “What happened?”

“Accident.” Severus rasped.

“Accident!” Harry said. “What do you mean, an accident?”

Severus shifted uncomfortably, he felt rather sheepish. “I…er…I always carried a pill, containing a potion…that would…in case I was ever discovered…it was…it was poison. I er… bit… it by mistake.” Severus couldn’t quite meet Harry’s eyes. 

“You great fucking prat!” Harry shouted. “What did you do that for? Bloody git, sodding idiot. I thought you had died! Do you know how worried I was? I killed Voldemort. I thought it was over and we were safe. And then you went and died! I wanted to die too. Do you really think that I could have lived without you?”

Harry was slapping him as he talked, although it didn’t really hurt. He felt like saying to Harry that he knew exactly what the boy had gone through, that he, himself, had gone through the same thing – the worry, the agony, the terror of being alone. 

But he didn’t have to say anything, because Poppy Pomfrey came charging in. “Mr Potter, what on earth do you think you are doing? I would thank you to unhand my patient.”

“But…” Harry began.

“It’s all right Poppy. Harry is upset, we need to talk.”

“You need to rest, you’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Neither of them said anything.

Poppy huffed.

“Five minutes, that’s all!” she grabbed a tray that was beside the bed and then swept out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled, as soon as she had left.

Severus didn’t speak, he just lifted his arms and moments later he was holding Harry. He buried his fingers in the boy’s hair and breathed in the scent of him. He smelt so fresh, like apples, like lemon verbena, like the oil he had used to cleanse himself for four years.

“I thought you were dead.” Harry said quietly. He sat on a chair beside the bed with his arms wrapped around Severus and his head resting on Severus’ chest.

“So did I.” Severus said dryly.

“I thought the world had ended.”

“I think in some ways it has ended, Harry. Certainly things will never be the same again. Do you realise that we are free?”

Harry nodded. “What do we do now?” he asked.

“Whatever we want.” Severus told him simply.

 

**************

 

When he woke again, Harry was curled up asleep in the cramped bedside chair. His mouth was open slightly and a small frown line creased the skin between his brows. He sighed in his sleep.

“He’s barely left your side since you were brought in.” Minerva said. Severus looked up at her, she was sitting in another chair, beside Harry.

“I am so sorry, Severus,” she said softly. “I didn’t know, none of us did, or we wouldn’t have treated you the way we did.”

“I was a spy, Minerva, I would hardly have been a good one, if you had known that I was on the side of the Light, would I?”

She snorted. “I suppose not, but I am still sorry.” 

Severus licked his lips, they felt dry and his mouth tasted awful.

“Do you want some water?” Minerva asked in a concerned voice.

Severus nodded, his throat was sore.

McGonagall, poured some water from a carafe beside the bed into a goblet, she lifted Severus’ head and held it to his lips. He eyed her warily but drank anyway.

She replaced the goblet and sat back down. “What’s with the Florence Nightingale act?” Severus asked.

Minerva flushed. “I am trying to make amends.”

“Minerva, don’t fuss over me,” Severus said peevishly. “I shall be fine, you don’t have to be here. Harry will take care of me.”

Minerva’s eyes filled with tears. “Harry needed to sleep, we slipped some Dreamless Sleep Potion into his pumpkin juice. He hasn’t slept since you were brought here.”

Severus glanced at his young lover again.

“You care about him, don’t you?” Minerva breathed. “You really care about him?”

Severus smiled, “I love him with all of my heart.”

“But you hated him! Severus, you always hated Harry.”

Severus’ smile grew wider.

“That was a very long time ago.” 

Then it was as if the floodgates had opened and Severus could not stop talking. He told her everything.

 

*****************

 

It would be three more days before Poppy allowed Severus to leave.

Harry barely left his side. They spent their time talking and making plans for the future and reminiscing about the past.

Harry told Severus what had happened to him when they were apart. He‘d curled up beside Severus in the hospital bed, keeping a sharp eye open for Madam Pomfrey, who they knew would scold them mercilessly if she caught them.

Harry also told him all about the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone. He told Severus how he had walked to what he’d thought was certain death. “My Mum and Dad were there,” Harry said, “and Sirius and Remus, so I didn’t feel alone.”

“You should have come for me.” Severus said quietly, “I would have walked with you.”

“Oh rubbish!” Harry said. Severus felt stung, “You would have tried to stop me.” 

“How could I not have done; do you know what it was like when I thought that I had lost you?”

“Yeah, I do now, don’t I?” Harry whispered. “But by the time I went to Voldemort I knew that I had to die and Dumbledore confirmed it.

“Dumbledore?”

“Yeah, he was there.”

“Where, Harry. Where was he?”

“When I died,” Harry said, not even seeming to notice Severus’ wince when he mentioned his death. “Dumbledore was waiting for me. It was weird. It was like being in a waiting room at Kings Cross. There was this thing there with us, it was like a malformed child. Dumbledore said that it was Voldemort, and that I had to chose. He said that because I’d willingly given my life for everyone I could chose what to do. I could go on if I wanted and see my Mum and Dad and Sirius and Remus.”

“Did you want to go on, Harry?” Severus couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course not!” Harry scoffed, “I wasn’t going to leave you behind, was I?” Severus had known what Harry’s answer would be, but somehow he had needed to ask.

He smiled, “Smug git!” Harry laughed, placing a quick kiss on Severus’ cheek. 

“Dumbledore said that everyone would be protected by my sacrifice, that Voldemort wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone ever again, because I’d let him kill me, cause I had willingly died for you all.”

Severus felt a lump in his throat at the thought of how lonely Harry must have been, of how incredibly brave he was.

“But you know what was really weird?” Harry mused.

“I have no idea, Mr Potter,” Severus told him.

“This.”

Harry held something up in front of Severus’ face, so that he could clearly see what it was.

“Oh, Merlin!” Severus gasped. Dangling from Harry’s hand was a pendant. It was obviously very old, tarnished and discoloured, but there was no mistaking it. It was a bee. The magic charm, which had animated it, had dissipated and the bee was still. Severus’ felt like his heart had stopped too. The last time he had seen this necklace was just a few short days ago, when it was still shiny and new.

“How?”

“This has been in Dumbledore’s family for generations.” Harry told him. “It was in a magically locked box, with a snake carved into the lid.”

“My box!” Severus exclaimed. He remembered buying it, finding it in the market and bringing it home. It had been the same day he had found Flea. The finding of the box, with its intricate snake carving, had been the perfect end to a perfectly happy day.

“Sounds like it, doesn’t it?” Harry said. “Dumbledore said it had always been locked and that no one had ever been able to open it. At the same time, they somehow could never throw it away, either. He thought there might be a charm on it to ensure that it was always kept. Dumbledore said that it popped open one day about a week after I came to Hogwarts for the first time.”

Harry chuckled. “He told me he got such a surprise, because it had always been around, and he had stopped even noticing. Inside it, there was a letter and Apisus’ bee. 

“The letter was all about you and me, and how we’d ended up in Rome. Dumbledore thought that somehow, we had brought magic back into the world. Apisus remembered the date on the _Crux Temporus_ and charmed the box so it would only open once we were both together and for one of his direct descendants, but only someone with goodness in his heart.”

Severus didn’t know what to say. Holding the charm, touching it, reminded him sharply of Apisus and how he had meant so much to them – a boy who was now long dead. Seeing the bee brought that sharply into focus.

“Dumbledore said that Apisus studied magic all his life and became a very wise and powerful wizard. He came to the conclusion that it wasn’t Voldemort who cast the spell that sent us back in time. It apparently all had to do with sympathetic magic. Voldemort’s magic could not have sent us back, it was too dark and he had no connection with Ancient Rome anyway. Apisus left instructions for Dumbledore on how to create a _Crux Temporus_ using my magic in place of time sensitive objects or the spell. I was the catalyst, as soon as I touched the Diadem it activated. Anyone else could have touched it and nothing would have happened. Apparently the box also contained very carefully preserved and detailed notes on how the original _Crux Temporus_ and spell were created, not to mention how the concept of sympathetic magic entered into it. Dumbledore followed the notes carefully. 

It was Dumbledore who hid Rowena’s Diadem in Rome and Dumbledore who charmed it. He said that when he opened the box, the bee flew out of it and fluttered into his hand because the magic was still active then.

“Apisus hadn’t known the exact date that we’d arrived, but he had known that it was March in the tenth year of Augustus’ rule and he guessed that it was around about the ides. Dumbledore said that he wrote the date that Apisus suggested on a piece of the parchment on which the notes were written and added that to the Potion. It was nowhere near as accurate as the watch was, but it did the job and Severus?... Dumbledore said that he ‘recognised the handwriting immediately’,” finished Harry in an almost reverent whisper.

“My notes!” Severus breathed, astounded by these revelations. 

Harry nodded and continued, “Dumbledore followed the instructions to the letter, apparently, and the final ingredient was my magic – ‘cause the bee had been animated by me. The spell had been cast two-thousand years ago, so it was still linked to that time, especially as it had been cast on silver and sealed inside the pendant. Dumbledore wasn’t worried that we would change things or alter the timeline, because we had already done so.”

Severus didn’t quite know what to feel. To say he was amazed was the understatement of the millennium – he felt the fabric of reality slipping from his grasp. They were supposed to have travelled back in time all along; it had happened just as it had always been meant to happen.

Severus was holding Apisus’ bee, turning it over and over enjoying the feel of it in his hands.

“He told me something else, too,” added Harry smiling impishly at Severus. “Did you know that Dumbledore means… bumblebee in old English?”

Severus stared blankly at Harry, his mouth literally falling open. But no sound emerged – for once in his life he was completely and utterly speechless.

 

********* 

 

Whilst Severus stayed in the hospital wing visitors came and went, but Harry was almost always there. Severus learned more about the battle, who had lived and who had died. So many Hogwarts students had been lost including three Slytherins. Fifth year James Wilby and seventh years Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott. Remus Lupin had died too, as Severus knew already. But he had died saving the woman he loved, the mother of his child and Severus thought that the werewolf would not have been displeased with such a death.

The Weasleys all survived, and Severus couldn’t help wondering if Albus Dumbledore had been the only one with an ancestor in Augustus’ Rome, the endurance and the resilience of the Weasley Clan reminded him strongly of a redheaded family, long ago whose cognomen had been Mustelus.

Severus and Harry talked about the future, too, for hours on end. The young man didn’t want to be an Auror any longer. He decided he’d had enough of Dark wizards to last him the rest of his life.

Minerva asked Severus to stay on. The year that he’d spent as Headmaster had been fraught with difficulty, but the fact that he had managed to keep the school relatively safe and the degree he had been able to achieve protecting the students (far more than anyone had realised), had convinced her that Severus was the right man for the job of rebuilding the school. In the end, and with Harry’s support, he had reluctantly agreed to continue as Headmaster for one more year.

 

**************

 

At last Poppy released him from the hospital wing and   
Severus led Harry downstairs to the dungeons where his new home awaited. Harry had been doubtful about them as a comfortable place to live, no doubt remembering the dark, potions lab where they had once battled with Occlumency.

But Severus’ rooms were different. Although they were below the level of the Entrance Hall, they were still above ground because they backed onto a hill. Long thin windows overlooked the nearby lake and Severus thought that it would not take much to add a door or two and have a small terrace garden in which to sit.

“It’s lovely, Domine!” Harry commented as he wandered from room to room. Harry was being optimistic as usual. There had been a battle here and though no-one had died there were shredded furnishings and piles of rubble everywhere which attested to the battering the apartment had received.

“They’ll be fine!” Harry affirmed warmly. “They are no worse than the shop was. I can tidy them up in no time.” He grinned, wickedly and looked up at Severus through his lashes. “Perhaps my domine will allow me to use magic this time, if I promise to be good?”

“Cheeky brat!” Severus exclaimed, grabbing the boy by an arm and pulling him into a kiss. Something pressed against him as he drew Harry into a hug. Something small and hard, buried in Severus’ pocket, had somehow come between them and Severus suddenly remembered. He reached a hand into his pocket and felt the stone. It was warm to the touch.

Carefully he drew it out, whilst Harry looked at him quizzically. “What is it, Domine?” Harry asked, looking intrigued. 

Severus smiled. Harry was a man, he had faced Voldemort, had gone willingly to his own death. If the spell did not work then Harry would surely be strong enough to face the consequences.

“Hold out your arms, palms up,” he instructed. Harry gave him a quizzical look but nevertheless did as he had been bidden.

Severus placed the stone in Harry’s outstretched palm and whispered the words _Finite Incantum_ and Harry’s arms were suddenly filled with a very excited little yellow dog.

“Flea!” Harry shouted, his face infused with joy as the wilful creature leapt from his arms and went racing around the room barking her indignation.

“Oh, Flea!” He bent down to stroke her and she covered his face in damp doggy kisses, even landing a lick or two on Severus’ hand as she barged past on her exploratory travels.

“Hmm,” Severus said, leaning over and brushing fine blonde hairs from his dark robes, I suppose she is going to shed like mad isn’t she?”

But Harry didn’t speak. Severus’ looked up. Harry’s green eyes were filled with tears. He hadn’t shed a tear during the battle or over the death of Remus Lupin, and Severus didn’t think he’d shed a tear about him either. Harry rarely cried, he usually got angry instead, but something about the arrival of a badly behaved small dog touched him as nothing else had been able to do.

“Thank you, Domine.” Harry finally said, green eyes shining with love. Severus fairly gasped at the sight of it. Harry loved him, it had never been more evident than it was now.

“I do love you,” the boy whispered, quite un-necessarily in Severus’ view, although he’d never tire of hearing those three simple words from his lover’s lips – Harry’s love for him was plain enough for anyone to see. 

 

He wrapped the boy in a hug and pulled him close. They just stood there, the two of them, holding each other close for what seemed like ages. They had made it. They had travelled home and survived Voldemort’s madness, they had a future. Severus had no idea what it might bring, but in truth he didn’t care. Because whatever else Fate had in store for them, he knew beyond all doubt they would face it together… and together, they were invincible.

_finis_

The epilogue to this story will be posted as soon as it has been completed and betaed 


	10. Epilogue

Thanks to the wonderful Cyndie my darling Claudia and the amazing Emz, for all the betaing, hand holding and much needed support. Huge thanks also to the wonderful maculategiraffe who helped me with the Latin translations and gave me much needed advice on Roman history and customs.

 

Epilogue 

 

Severus threw down his copy of the Daily Prophet in disgust. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. He kept it clean these days, washing it daily with a specially created potion which left it silky and soft. His young lover adored playing with his dark locks. Thinking of his Harry almost brought a smile to his face but he couldn’t quite manage it – he was just too angry.. His seething fury was directed, as usual, toward the abominable Skeeter woman who was at it again, hinting that he and Harry were in an abusive relationship and that he was the abuser.

The Prophet article, written in her unmistakable style, was suggesting that Severus had been abusing Harry for years, that it had started when Harry was still at school, when he was underage. These articles were reminiscent of the odious woman’s vitriolic writing about Albus during the year that Harry had been on the run from everyone: from the Ministry of Magic to Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Her insinuations that the late headmaster had abused Harry had not been able to hurt Albus Dumbledore because he had already died; but these new accusations could and did hurt him and, worse still, they might hurt Harry. 

 

It had been three years since the defeat of Voldemort, for which, Severus had been awarded an Order of Merlin (second class), reinstated as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and by rights, at least according to Harry, should be receiving the treatment of a hero. Instead he had to cope with snide comments from many of his colleagues and offensive, vicious articles like the one Skeeter had spewed with her poison pen.

Minerva knew the truth about what had happened to them during their Roman adventure, well most of it anyway. She was probably the only confidant Severus had left; even so, he felt that he could only confide in her to a point. Since Dumbledore’s death there was simply no one left he felt he could trust enough to unburden himself to completely, certainly no one amongst the ex members of the more-or-less abandoned Order of the Phoenix. Ironically, the werewolf would probably have been an ally, Severus thought wryly, but then again maybe not, not considering his relationship with Harry. That seemed to be the sticking point with a number of people, especially the Weasleys. The only member of the family that Harry even saw anymore was the youngest boy, Ron. Apparently the youngest Weasley male had been the one to save Severus’ life after the battle – by shoving one of the several Bezoars, that he perpetually carried with him, down Severus’ throat – he seemed to feel that he had some sort of responsibility for Severus. He was always asking after Severus, according to Harry at least and had even, on occasion defended Severus in public.

 

Molly, on the other hand, seemed to hold Severus personally responsible for taking Harry away from her daughter. Although Harry had tried to explain to her on many occasions that had known he was gay well before he and Severus had started their relationship, she just couldn’t seem to accept that Harry had not been in love with Ginny and was determined to believe that Severus had stolen Harry away. Harry’s explanation that he had already decided that he liked men better than women while in sixth year had fallen on deaf ears as did his pointing out that even the girls that he had dated had sported boyish physiques. Harry had thought at one time that Ginny was his one chance of having a home and happiness in marriage, because she had known him long enough to want him for who he was, not for whom everyone wanted him to be. Once he had come to terms with his sexual preference, however, that had not been enough to engender love. 

Harry had a home now, with Severus, who loved him and accepted him and knew him for exactly who and what he was. Severus smirked to himself, he knew that meant everything to Harry. 

Severus had thought that Arthur Weasley might have proved a friend of sorts; but Arthur, whilst seemingly grateful that Severus had saved his son, appeared unwilling to risk Molly’s wrath by developing a friendship with the potion’s master. He was pleasant and polite but made no overtures to friendship. They perhaps could have overcome the widening rift with the Weasleys if Harry had wanted to try, but Harry seemed to wear his indignation at Severus’ treatment like a sort of shield and was not willing to let anyone past who might be less than welcoming of Severus’ place in Harry’s life.

 

He never would have imagined that he would miss Albus so much. He longed to talk to the man, to ask him how he had managed to set the Tempus charm in the first place, how had he set the secret door in the statue so that it could only be opened by a Parselmouth. There was some way of learning the odd word, wasn’t there? So he remembered reading anyway. Harry’s Parselmouth abilities were still in evidence and Severus postulated that perhaps the talent was innate. He had a snake carved into his headboard and when Harry had first noticed it he had slipped into the language of the serpent without even realising that he was doing so. It had sent shivers down Severus’ spine, hearing the sibilant tones on Harry’s tongue. Harry had used it often since.

But that didn’t explain how Dumbledore had managed to use it, if indeed he had. There were so many unanswered questions in Severus’ mind. How had Albus altered the spell to send them back in time, instead of forwards? Had he truly destroyed Severus’ notes? Severus had almost kicked himself when he realised, after hearing Harry’s tale of the strange meeting with Albus, that he had not destroyed his notes as he had planned to do before leaving Rome. He had certainly been distracted, not to mention extremely distressed, in those last few days before their departure. There was no doubt in his mind that he had simply not been thinking straight.

Several times he had tried to talk to Albus’ portrait, but the old man had been infuriatingly evasive, or perhaps he had been spelled into silence on the subject? He had merely smiled enigmatically, called Severus ‘Dear Boy’ and offered him a Sherbet Lemon - which had been skilfully rendered in cadmium yellow.

Severus couldn’t seem to sit still. He paced around the office, fidgeting with the various bits of accumulated bric-a-brac that generations of headmasters and mistresses had left behind. He suspected that even Dumbledore, himself, hadn’t known what half of them were for. Catching sight of the Daily Prophet article again, Severus felt renewed rage at the allegations in the squalid rag of a newspaper. Yet even as the anger coursed through him, Severus also felt the old pangs of guilt beginning to surface as he thought about how he had treated Harry at the beginning of their seven-year relationship. Merlin, he didn’t even like to think about what the headlines would say if Skeeter ever found out about that! Not that Harry seemed bothered about it in the least. No, he continued to insist that Severus had treated him better than anyone else he had ever lived with. However, given the treatment Harry had endured at the hands of his relatives and a certain meddling headmaster, that didn’t comfort Severus in the way Harry obviously thought it should.

He missed Harry.

Harry had spent the past three years as the seeker for the Chudley Cannons, taking the team to league success. After the defeat of Voldemort people had been unwilling to let their hero fade from the public eye and had pressured Harry to begin playing professional Quidditch. Rita Skeeter, among others, had argued that it was Harry’s duty to lead the way in showing the Wizarding world that life went on, that despite the pain and losses of the war, there were good times ahead. Three months ago he had flown for England at the Quidditch World Cup. The star of the team, he had led his country to victory against the super strong Swiss. Since then Severus had seen him only once about nine days ago, for fifteen minutes at the Quidditch Headquarters, after returning from a punishing demonstration tour and before heading off to the southwest of England for a festival of flying. . Although they tried to sustain constant communication through owl post and firecalls, it wasn’t the same as actually seeing each other in the flesh.

Severus had just never felt welcomed by any of Harry’s team-mates or by his manager, he was often told that Harry was too busy to see him and he suspected that some of his messages were never passed on. At times it seemed as if the whole world was actively trying to keep them apart.

But he was coming home today. Severus had no idea what time he would arrive, so all day he had been on tenterhooks, with the Prophet article not helping his mood a bit. Every footstep, every cough, every whisper made him think of Harry. He couldn’t wait to see his boy again; not that Harry was a boy any longer, not really. He was a strong, very attractive, fully grown man – but to Severus, Harry would always be ‘his boy’. 

Severus just couldn’t settle. Finally, as he often did when he couldn’t concentrate, he sat down at the large mahogany desk and opened the drawer where he kept Apisus’ letter. 

The letter had been encased in a magically sealed leather tube in the top left-hand drawer of the desk that had once belonged to Albus. The day that Severus had taken over as headmaster for the second time the drawer had simply popped open as Severus sat down. He had always thought the drawer to be firmly stuck shut, and later, when he asked her, Minerva said that she had never been able to open it either.

The faded leather tube had been softened with age. A note had been tied to it with a long red ribbon. The note had been from Albus. It had been short and somewhat snippy, following Albus’ usual method of using complex obfuscation, whilst giving just enough information to keep someone hanging on for more. The note stated that the leather tube had been in the box left to Albus by his long distant ancestor Albus Marcus Apisus. It also said that Albus had been unable to open it and had thought the tube could only be opened by the person to whom it was addressed. The name inscribed into the leather container in tarnished gold leaf was Severus Tobias Hispanicus and Severus had been able to simply give the lid a simple twist and take out the parchment scroll that had been tightly rolled inside.

Severus loved the feeling of the crinkly parchment and was awed by the 2000 year old note so carefully written and preserved by a boy whom he had loved like a son. He would never speak to Apisus again, never even hear his voice; yet, somehow, just holding this letter comforted him. This was especially true when he was feeling as low as he had felt lately; the scroll brought the happiest time of his life closer, even though it was forever lost to him. 

Severus cringed, he was so fucking pathetic! He missed Rome so much. He missed their easygoing life, their neighbours and friends. He had thought he’d been homesick when he and Harry had first arrived in the ancient city, but that was nothing… nothing compared to how heart-sore he was now.

Slowly he unrolled the precious letter. He tried not to read it too often. It was just stupid, to forever wish for what he could no-longer have. But it would be okay, he told himself, it would be fine… just to have a quick look… whilst it was quiet… whilst he waited for Harry.

_**Dearest Severus,**_ he read, the words as fresh and clear as the day that Apisus had written it. _**How much we all miss you and Harry. It has been so many years since we saw you last and I am no-longer young as once I was. Often I turn to speak to you, to ask your guidance, before I remember that you are so long gone and so far away.**_

_**Are you happy, you and Harry? Now that your beautiful boy has killed his dark wizard. I often think of you in your marvellous future enjoying all the fabulous things that Harry told me of and cannot help but wonder if you miss us as terribly as we miss you.** _

_**Several years ago we all came to live in Britain, myself, my darling Virginia, Modia, and at least some of her children, including Rufus and Hermia. All of us who were there the night that Harry saved Hermia and little Sev, who were touched by his magic, haven’t aged as we should have done. We still seem so young. By the Gods, Severus, when I had my seventieth birthday I still only looked about thirty-five; Modia hadn’t changed in all that time either, people started to notice and wonder. One or two of us would have not caused much discussion, but so many? It was easier to leave in the end.** _

_**After Thomas died, Modia didn’t want to run the inn any longer on her own, as in those days there were far too many ruffians let loose in Rome. So she gave it over to her son, Charlus, and came to join Rufus and Hermia here with me. Their children are fully grown now, with children of their own. Severus married my youngest daughter Lilius, whom you would adore; they have six children together. Lili has her mother’s long red hair and a smile that brightens the greyest winter day, of which there are many here!** _

_**Modia’s namesake married a local man, whose name was Aurelius Ambrosius. He died before his son and own namesake was born. He was Roman, stationed at Isca Augusta; his mother is from a noble Celtic family and they adore his son, whom they call Merddyn. Modia minor spends much time in Aurelius’ home village which is near the fort and no more than a few day’s ride from here, thus we see them often. Modia’s grandson is the most magical of us all, his other grandmother being a Druidess didn’t hurt a bit, either. Modia minor, it seems proved a worthy mother for such a child. He is a joy to me and perhaps my favourite of all the children, although I suppose I should not admit to having favourites. He has a peculiar talent for chasing dragons, which has garnered him much notoriety with the Welsh king Vortigern. I do not doubt that his fame will continue to grow, along with the strength of his magic. Unfortunately there is little left that I can teach him about either potions or spells; he needs more Severus… he needs someone like you and Harry.** _

_**When Ambrosius’ father married his Druidess it was an unusual event, but there are many such marriages now. The new governor, Julius Agricola, who is a close relative of our old friend Gaius Iulius Nocens, says that he encourages intermarriage – though he does not always tell the whole truth, like many of his class. Currently he is far away fighting the savage Dalriadian tribes on the northern border of the Roman territories.** _

_**Winter comes quickly in this place, as I am sure you know! Today it has been raining hard and the road from Londinium has been quiet. Part of the reason why we came here for a new life was because we had become tired of all the political machinations in Rome. I followed the Emperor Claudius’ legions and was one of the first to arrive; but I hear Rome is a different place now than it was when we left. Our old shop survived Nero’s fire and thrives under its new owners. Modia’s oldest son, Bilius, and his Gaulish wife took it on and their grandchildren are making a good job of it. It is still a good business if I am informed correctly.** _

_**The twins stayed behind for many years, but once Gaius Iulius Nocens arrived with his grandson - who is called Lucius, after his mother’s family - Septimus could not stay away for very long. Not that we see them much; they have settled in Londinium. The twins have started a shop selling the sort of things they sold in Rome and Gaius Iulius is enjoying socializing with the emerging Romano-British Patrician class and supporting Lucius in his post as secretary to their cousin.** _

_**I am very happy here; it is, and always shall be, home. My eldest daughter comes to call me for dinner now. She is so unlike her sister, solemn and serious. She suits her name, Severa, so well and whilst she is very different from my Lili, I adore her for her wit and her intelligence. Her husband, Figulus, makes amphora and Severa creates beautiful decorations upon them and into each she weaves charms for preservation. They are craved around the world by those who love beauty. She has just one child, a son, born late and much adored, who wishes to follow his father’s trade.** _

_**It was only when we settled here that our children finally found love, either in each other or in those whose magic is also strong. Being as long lived as we are, we could be lonely without a loved one to share a long lifetime. I am heartily glad that my children have found such love.** _

_**If I am honest with myself, as I know I should be, I really came here rather than anywhere else in the Empire because I wanted to see your homeland. Somehow I feel closer to you here, though we might be two thousand or more years apart. When the leaves turn in our valley I wonder if they turn, too, for you? Surely they must? And in the spring when the Bird Cherries, which abound here, are laden with blossom, I wish you could see them too, wherever it is that you are. I am told that they grow most prolifically in this part of the world and may not be so abundant elsewhere. I see them whenever I take walks to the long burial mound of the old ones that overshadows our little settlement. I often stand on the barrow, looking down on our home and wonder what you would make of it all.** _

_**We are well, all of us, healthy and long lived, as I have said – thanks to our magic, I think, thanks to you and Harry. We live in a small valley on the road to Aquae Sulis, which attracts customers heading to the baths or the shrine. I run a bakery and a shop selling potions, Modia runs a small inn – her food is famed for its wonderful taste and abundance, a skill she learned from Harry, I’m sure. This place had been settled for generations, but it was abandoned when we came. I believe it once had some Celtic name which now is lost, but we call it Prunusconvallium, after the cherry trees. We are run off our feet and often wish for more help… we would welcome a Potions Master and a hardworking boy.** _

_**My library grows grander each year and I know that you, my dear Severus, would love it, as do I.** _

_**It seems that magic grows stronger in these parts with each year that passes. I am convinced that Harry brought it back into the world. I have read many volumes in my long years and there is little doubt that in my mind that magic was dying out in our homeland. It had flowered in Greece, in Antiquity. But we Romans love straight lines, whilst magic seeks the crooked, the diagonal. We seek structure whilst magic needs the wild. We cannot nurture it with our ordered streets and walls. Harry gifted us with his magic, and in this place it grows strong amidst the gean wildwoods and mingles with the native magic on the empty high plains near our home. Places that have teamed with magic since before the passing of time was recorded.** _

_**I must close this letter now and seal it to send it forth. I hope it finds you as happy as I am as it leaves my hand. Farewell my dear Severus, take care of your precious Harry and of yourself. I look forward to the day that we meet again, in this world or the next.** _

_**Your friend and admirer in perpetuity** _

_**Albus Marcus Apisus.**_

Whenever he read the letter, Severus’ throat felt tight and his eyes would prickle with the tears he would refuse to let fall. He hardly needed to read it anymore, knowing it as he did almost word for word, but he relished the comfort it afforded. He smiled sadly and wished with all his heart that they could be again with the people who were the closest thing to family that he and Harry had ever known. 

He would love to meet Modia’s grandson – he would be a worthy pupil for any teacher, Severus thought.

He closed his eyes and imagined Rome: the twisted, cobbled streets, the overcrowded houses, the pungent smells, the noise. Then he thought of the garden, their special place, a little oasis of peace and tranquillity in the centre of an ancient hive of humanity. It had become a meditation for him, this exercise in remembrance. It calmed him, picturing the garden and their home, walking through it again in his mind, calmed him.

There was a knock on the door.

Severus felt his heart lighten.

“Harry!” he breathed.

“Is it alright to come in, Severus?”

Minerva McGonagall, breezed into the room.

Severus scowled.

“Oh, Severus, he’ll be here soon,” she said, not unkindly.

“I’m fine, Minerva. Do stop your fussing, woman, your constant wittering gets on my nerves!”

The infernal woman smiled at him, smugly.

“Are you planning on taking time off when Harry gets here?” 

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Of course I don’t! But I need to make sure that sufficient arrangements have been made.”

“No, I plan on just swanning off with my young lover and letting everyone else sort things out!” Severus sneered.

“I take it that you’ve read the Daily Prophet today?”

“What has that got to do with your bloody, silly questions?”

“Very little, Severus. But I am sure it has everything to do with the tone of your answers.”

Severus huffed. 

“How about a nice cup of tea?” Minerva asked.

At least the infernal woman knew how he took his Darjeeling.

He had stopped teaching since he became Headmaster, except for the senior classes in Potions and Defence. He secretly enjoyed teaching the older students, ensuring they reached the high standard he expected of them; and he really, really liked not having to deal with children who fumbled and stuttered and were only in potions because they had to be.

“I have organised Filius to take the seventh year defence class…” Severus began. 

There was no warning when the door opened again. Harry didn’t bother knocking. Severus was simply aware of the door bursting open followed by a blast of energy and power and light. Then his lap and arms were full of Harry, who rained kisses on his nose and on his cheeks.

“Oh God!” Harry was saying between kisses. “I missed you so fucking much! Oh, hello, Professor McGonagall. How are you? I’m sorry, I got caught up. Bloody meeting ran on and on. I thought I would never get away. Hmmm, are you using a new shampoo? How’s Flea?” 

“Mr. Potter, don’t you need time to breathe?” Minerva asked, wryly amused.

“Nope!” Harry said, kissing Severus on the lips. “Don’t let us keep you back, Professor.”

“I’m sure you must have schedules to draw up or something?” Severus added, his arms pulling Harry tight against his chest.

“And I’m sure that you two have a lot to catch up on!” Minerva chuckled. “I assure you that I have no desire to be cast in the role of a small green fruit.” She closed the door – which Harry had left open in his mad dash – on her way out.

“Well, that got rid of her!” Harry said, sitting back somewhat smugly. “What is she talking about, anyway? What small green fruit? Does she think she’s a grape or something?”

“She means a gooseberry, brat! It is what someone is said to feel like if they are getting in between lovers.”

“Oh!” Harry said, with a grin. “Well she is not getting between us. I mean I like her and everything, but that is pretty yuck when you think about it. You, me, and McGonagall…”

“Behave!” Severus said, slapping Harry firmly on his very pert arse.

Harry waggled his eyebrows

“Gonna make me, Domine?” he asked.

Severus smirked. 

“It would be a pleasure, Mr. Potter.”

He nibbled at Harry’s plump lower lip and sucked it into his own mouth, deepened the nibbles so that they became a kiss. Harry kissed him back, seemingly as desperate to taste Severus as Severus was to taste him.

They kissed for some time, desperate to be close to each other again. Touching each other, holding each other. Harry was clad in a light t-shirt and a pair of jeans, preventing Severus from reaching all that tempting skin that he knew lay beneath. “I want these off,” he growled, tugging at Harry’s t-shirt. “I want you naked and spread out for me on our bed.”

Harry grinned.

“Okay, Domine. Shall I strip now? Walk down to our quarters in the buff?”

“Well, I would enjoy the view,” Severus said, “but I don’t want to shock the entire school. Besides, it is MY view, my own private view, and I don’t want to share it with anyone. So, I shall join you there in approximately ten minutes, Mr. Potter, and if you are not laying on our bed, spread wide and waiting for me, I shall want to know why!”

Harry’s grin widened. He turned and sprinted away.

Severus counted to ten, and followed. By the time he arrived in their rooms, Harry was stripped to the waist and barefoot.

“Oh dear, Harry, you have disobeyed me, I see?” Severus said silkily. “I shall have to punish you most severely.”

“That wasn’t ten minutes.” Harry protested indignantly.

“I did say approximately.”

Harry chuckled. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I am going to vanish the rest of your clothing and pound you into the mattress,” Severus said, promptly following through on his words as he did indeed vanish the faded denim that Harry wore and advanced slowly upon his now very naked lover. 

 

**********

 

Hours later they lay sated and content, wrapped up in each other, skin touching skin. They were as close as they possibly could be. Severus could feel Harry’s lashes against his shoulder, his breath ghosting against Severus’ nipple. The green silken ribbon that Severus had used to tie Harry down, while he’d teased him and kept him on the edge of arousal for hours, brushed over Severus’ stomach. It was still wrapped around Harry’s wrist, contrasting beautifully with the boy’s tanned skin. He smiled rather smugly when he thought of how Harry had begged him, whimpering pitifully as Severus had done whatever he had wanted to do to his helpless lover. 

Harry sighed long and deeply.

“Are you happy as things are, Domine?”

Severus stiffened, holding his breath. Suddenly he could feel nothing but stark terror, thinking perhaps fear had stopped his heart. What was Harry going to say? Was this it? He should have known it was coming, of course it was. Everything had been so sweet, so wonderful. Harry had met someone else. Had this been a goodbye… he couldn’t think the word; with every particle of his being, Severus knew that they had just made love, he and Harry, and he couldn’t even think the word ‘fuck’ to describe what they had just done. Was it the end? He should have known. Harry was young and handsome – he was a hero, for Circe’s sake – of course others wanted him, chased him. Maybe, finally, Harry had allowed himself to be caught?

He didn’t know the answer that Harry wanted. He didn’t know what to say so, being the proper Slytherin he was, Severus prevaricated.

“Are you?”

“No,” Harry stated flatly.

Severus’ heart felt sore. He wanted to break down, beg Harry not to leave him, but he could not do that. If Harry needed his freedom, Severus had always promised himself that he would not deny him. Would not make it difficult.

“I hate it here. I hate it that I haven’t seen you for weeks. I don’t want to be flying off all over the world. I don’t want to be away from you anymore.”

“Wha…What?” Severus whispered. “What did you say?”

Harry pushed himself up on one elbow and gave Severus one of those quizzical looks of his. “I said I miss you. And I do, every hour of every day that I am away.”

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Severus breathed. It was just as well that he was lying down as the relief sweeping through him making him feel almost giddy.

 

“Domine?”

“I…I thought that you were going to say something else.”

Harry didn’t speak, he just raised his eyebrows silently waiting for Severus to continue.

Severus couldn’t meet Harry’s eyes.

“Erm… I was expecting you to say something different.”

“What?” Harry demanded.

“That you, erm… might have… er… become tired of me… that you might have found someone else.”

Harry didn’t laugh at him, instead his puzzled look softened but his voice sharpened.

“What is it with you, Domine? Do you need me to tell you that you’re a silly git before you realise that I’m truly home or something?”

Severus’ lips twitched, he almost smiled. Harry could be so blunt sometimes, and he loved it when Harry was like that. He knew that it meant Harry felt comfortable enough with him to show his sarcastic, sharp-tongued side, the side of Harry that few people even knew existed.

“You are such an arse sometimes!” Harry muttered grumpily as he lay back down against Severus. 

He didn’t speak for several minutes and Severus held himself totally still. He didn’t want to interrupt whatever it was Harry was going to say. Sometimes it took a while before Harry said what was on his mind. Years of not being listened to, years of nobody caring had made him very tentative sometimes, but Severus knew that when Harry did speak he would tell him everything. Harry was too open to want to keep secrets even though he’d had to keep so many in the past.

“Domine, what would you say if someone told you that we could go back home?” Severus didn’t even have to question what Harry was talking about, where Harry was talking about. For both of them, there was only one place, one time, that was home. He didn’t even have to contemplate an answer

“Yes. Oh Gods yes! I would say yes!”

“Good,” Harry said, very carefully. “I’m glad you said that, because you see, Domine, I think that we did.”

For a moment, Severus couldn’t speak. Harry hadn’t said ‘we should’ – he had said ‘we did’. Was what Harry said true? They could go back? They would go back?

“We go home?” Severus croaked. He felt like he had turned to stone, not even daring to hope. There hadn’t been a day that passed since they’d arrived in the present that Severus hadn’t wished they could return to the past, that they had never, in fact, left Ancient Rome. 

He had never forgotten Modia’s words _‘You have a good life here. You have your health and a good looking boy in your bed. You have plenty to eat, a good income and respect from your neighbours. It doesn’t get much better than that, love, you should enjoy it while you can.’_ He had tried to live by those words ever since, but it had been so much harder here, in Post-Voldemort Britain.

Not at first perhaps, in the first few months he and Harry had rarely spent time apart. They had been rebuilding Hogwarts to begin with, everyone working together. When the school had reopened, however, it had become more difficult. Their relationship had started to garner condemnation. Children had been kept away by their parents because of Severus’. People could forgive him for being a Death Eater and it seemed they could even forgive him for killing Dumbledore. But few, apparently, could forgive him for his relationship with Harry – their saviour, their hero.

In an effort to protect Hogwarts and themselves from vicious gossip their cosy times together stopped and they had become ‘discreet’. Then Harry was asked to try out for the Chudley Cannons and everything changed.

“Yeah, I really think we do,” Harry said.

He snuggled against Severus and began to tell him why he had made such a statement.

“We toured the West Country, me and the Cannons, flying every day. We started in Truro, and then we went to Exeter, then Bristol and finally Bath,” Harry explained. “When we were in Bath I got to take a day off.

“I went to the Roman Baths, Domine, and it was so amazing. It felt like home to me. The others from the team were looking at it as if it was history, talking about it as if the people who used the baths and worshiped at the shrine were strange, very different from us and long gone. But for me? Domine, I kept thinking if I could only turn a little faster, be a little quicker, I would see them, be back with them. It was almost painful to be there, to see a glimpse of what we have lost.”

Severus hugged him and placed a kiss on Harry’s head, wanting to offer comfort. He truly did understand how Harry felt.

“So, then we went to the Abbey. They have this collection of Medieval books that our manager wanted to see. I was reluctant to go at first; I just wanted to go back to the guesthouse. I mean, it was just a load of old books!”

The corners of Severus’ mouth twitched ominously, almost causing a smile. That was so like his Harry! 

“But I thought that I’d go anyway and so I could tell Hermione all about it,” Harry continued, enthusiastically. “At first it was just as dull as I had feared. Then, guess what I saw? It was your book. They have a copy of your book, Domine!”

Severus didn’t have to ask what book Harry was talking about. His Potions book, the one that he had found when he was about sixteen in a small, obscure bookshop off Diagon Alley, the one he’d had ever since and still carried wherever he went. It was the book that had made him discard the diary that Harry had subsequently found in his sixth year. 

The author of Severus’ Potions bible was a Medieval monk named Adelard of Bath. This well travelled cleric was a respected Arabic scholar and was known for bringing Middle Eastern science and philosophy to Medieval Europe. He was also famous for translating ancient documents into Latin. One such work was his definitive book on Potions and Spells, _Magicus Antiquitus,_ which contained recipes from all over the ancient world. Severus knew that less than 20 copies of this incredible work had been transcribed from Adelard’s original and he probably had one of only a few that had survived to modern times. 

Included in this tome were the creations of an ancient Potions Master, known only by his initials, F.J.H. Nothing else was known about this man, apart from his skill in creating many of the potion recipes and spells that were the basis for all others in the modern Magical World. Severus, himself, credited most of his success in potions experimentation to the basics he had learned from this ancient genius. Adelard’s recipes had become the Slytherin youth’s inspiration and by this time Severus knew them all by heart. 

“It was the original, Severus, not a copy but the original, transcribed by Adelard himself,” continued Harry excitedly. “I practically know it by heart, you know, ‘cause you’ve made me study it so often.” He smiled and placed a fond kiss on Severus’ chest. It was so tender, so affectionate that Severus felt incredibly foolish for his worries earlier. 

“There are some extra bits, though,” Harry continued, his eyes fairly blazing with barely contained anticipation at the telling of his tale. “There is a paragraph that isn’t in your book, right at the start. I could read it easily, even though it is a bit watermarked and some of the writing is obscured, because my Latin got so fluent in Rome. It said something like ‘transcribed from the recipes of Severus Tobias Hispanicus of Aquae Sulis’.”

Severus couldn’t speak. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but he couldn’t seem to form words. 

“The initials in the book are yours, Domine. It should be S.T.H, not F.J.H! They were copied wrongly, by whoever transcribed Adelard’s work. So you see, I know we can go back, I know we do go back, because I think that we already have.” 

“Harry,” Severus spoke carefully, “we can’t read too much into that. It could have been someone else. Adelard could have made a mistake, probably did make a mistake. I didn’t write any of my Potions recipes down and Severus was a common name in Rome… it was almost certainly someone else.”

“No it wasn’t!” Harry exclaimed. “It was you, I know it was! And that is just the point. You didn’t write any recipes down yet, but we haven’t gone back yet! And Severus might be a common name in ancient Rome but Tobias Hispanicus wasn’t.”

“Harry, we cannot go back.” 

“We can and we do-did! Apisus’ letter is the proof!”

“What do you mean?” Severus asked.

“After Bath, we all had a day free so me and Katie Bell went to find Godric’s Hollow. I hadn’t been since the year that I was Horcrux hunting, and I couldn’t exactly enjoy looking around then. I wanted to see where my mum and dad had died when I wasn’t being hunted by Death Eaters. This time I knew it instantly. It is the place in Apisus’ letter. We go back. Apisus’ letter proves it.”

Severus couldn’t see how Apisus’ letter proved that they went back, he couldn’t quite dare to believe what Harry was saying, and he knew that by producing the letter he could show the boy that he was deluded. He had put the letter in his pocket when Minerva had visited him in his office. He got out of bed and went to retrieve it. The floors in the dungeons were as cold as ice and normally Harry would squeal if Severus got back into bed with such cold feet. It was a mark of how distracted Harry was that he didn’t say a word.

Harry took the letter from Severus’ hand and carefully unrolled it. He looked up at Severus though brows that were drawn in concentration. Severus rarely saw Harry like this. Harry always insisted that he was not very clever, not very academic, but bit by bit over the years Severus realised how completely untrue that was. Occasionally he had caught glimpses of a different side of Harry: the quick intelligence that he rarely showed the world.

Once again, Severus cursed the boy’s aunt and uncle. He had been told so often that he was stupid that he truly thought he was. He dismissed his abilities, brushed off his talents as being of little consequence. Severus wished once again he had been able to find the Dursleys; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried. But the order had done its job well, the awful family seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. That was probably a good thing as Harry didn’t need to lose his lover to Azkaban – which he almost certainly would do if Severus did ever find the family because he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from killing them all.

“Look, Domine,” Harry said, so Severus did. “Look at the way he phrases some sentences. This one for example; ‘ _Now that your beautiful boy has killed his dark wizard.’_ He knows Domine, he knows that I killed Voldemort! He doesn’t speculate, he states it like it’s accepted fact. And this sentence, he writes about the Bird Cherries and the long barrow. Did you know that there are lots of them around that area? Neolithic burial mounds. There is one at Godric’s Hollow. I could never understand it, you see, why would Apisus write to us like this? To you? What would be the point? We couldn’t write back or answer his questions. I think he wrote this to give us some clues on how to find him. I think that when he wrote this he already knew that I had killed Voldemort. Because we go back – because we had already gone back!”

Harry enthusiasm continued to mount and there was no longer a question of it being contained. It was fizzing out of him and he was barely able to sit still. 

“When Katie and I got to Godric’s Hollow it seemed so familiar… it seemed like home. At first I thought it was because I had lived there when I was a baby. But it felt deeper than that. I really don’t have any memories of it… I really don’t! Then I realised. There are Bird Cherries there, they grow in abundance. The locals call it Gean Valley. Gean is another word for Wild Cherries. That was just like its Roman name, that is what Apisus called it, _Prunusconvallium_.

“It’s on the road to Bath and there is an ancient pub and a baker and a chemist shop. The locals say there have been Potters there since Roman times – oh, and a famed apothecary, too, whose potions recipes are still in use today. Apisus’ daughter married a man called Figulus! That means potter! Don’t you see Domine? They settled in Godric’s Hollow!”

Harry got out of bed, completely naked still, and went over to where he had folded his t-shirt and socks before Severus had vanished his jeans. Harry picked up a tarnished metal box. It was rusty in places, but the rust had not eroded the metal. It looked battered and very, very old. 

Offering it to Severus, he sat on the edge of the bed and said, “I found this. I walked up to the burial mound, just as Apisus wrote that he did, to look down on the village below. When I was up there, I had this strange compulsion to dig and I did. I found a stick and broke the ground with it but finally had to use my bare hands. Katie’d stayed in the village at a little coffee shop and I’d walked up to the mound all alone. I sat there for what seemed like hours and I dug and dug until I found this box. I didn’t open it. I brought it here for us to open together.”

Severus gazed at the old box in amazement. There was no lock, which was not surprising, as such things had been unknown to Romans. Severus had always locked his boxes with spells. The box was beautiful. Though old and battered, it had been exquisitely worked with a strange variety of animals. Severus traced the engravings with his finger tops. The animals were a lion and a snake and a bee.

Severus didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t have said anything if he had known, his throat felt as though it had closed up again. Harry’s ideas couldn’t be right. The ‘evidence’ that Harry was presenting was circumstantial at best. It was insane. Although his mind was still in denial, in his heart Severus knew that Harry was right. They had gone back… would go back… and this box would help them do so.

Albus had apparently destroyed the notes for creating a _Crux Temporus,_ that and the potion and anything else that would allow someone to travel back far enough to alter the course of history. But that couldn’t stop Severus. He had invented the whole process to begin with and he knew exactly what to do. No one in this modern day world could duplicate what had been accomplished, no one but Severus, himself.

It was mad to believe in this, mad to attempt to go through the whole process again, and yet, Severus felt his heart soaring.

“Can we try?” Harry asked earnestly. “Can we at least open the box, see what’s inside?”

“I think that is the very least that we can do.” Severus told him, at last unable to keep from smiling when Harry fairly beamed with delight.

The box sprang open when Severus said the word _apis_ , the first word he tried. Severus’ heart lurched. The box had to have been sealed by Apisus, who else would have used that word as a magical seal? Inside were a motley assortment of things: a small glass bottle, a few coins wearing the head of Vispasian. Finally there was just one more coin left, nestled in velvet, much larger than the rest, which was inscribed ‘Aquae Sulis’ and was dated nineteen years from the end of the first century. It was exquisitely carved and solid silver, it was perfect. It could be their _Crux Temporus_. There was also a folded piece of parchment which contained a short note and three fine dark hairs – hairs that Severus knew instinctively belonged to Harry.

Apisus had used a simple spell which along with Harry’s own hair, must have been what called to him, caused him to search for the box. It was not enough to bind him but would have caused a compulsion as soon as Harry had come close enough.

The parchment was a short note that had just three words written upon it ‘ _Tempus Fugit Retrorsum_ ’… Time Flies Backwards.

“See Domine? See?” Harry was saying, babbling now as he tried to prove his theory to Severus. 

Severus couldn’t speak. He sat examining the contents of the box, taking great care not to touch them with his bare hands. After a brief look he raised his wand and sealed them with a stasis spell to stop them becoming corrupted by this time.

They had the means to return, he and Harry. They had returned, how else would Apisus have had Harry’s hair to use in his spell? They not only had the means but they would use them, had used them? Not to return to exactly the time and place they had left, but to somewhere that was as close as they could possibly be without crossing their own timeline or causing a paradox.

“This will not take us back to Rome,” he told Harry. “We’ll be in Roman Britain and we’d have to travel a long, long way if we wanted to get back to Rome.” Severus felt a strong need to play Devil’s advocate. The stakes were too high for him to just say yes; he had to ensure that Harry understood things would be different.

“I know, Domine. Roman Britain would be fine,” Harry said. “I liked Godric’s Hollow. I could almost see the Roman buildings in my mind’s eye. The weather is not like Rome, but the Southwest is warm enough – it’s warmer than here, anyway.” The boy shivered slightly, wrapping his arms around himself. “Besides, that’s where all our family and friends will be. I wouldn’t want to be in Rome if they were all in Prunusconvallium.”

“You do realize, Harry,” warned Severus, “that everyone will be much older than when we left them in Rome. Some may even have passed away by the time we get there.”

“No they won’t!” Harry protested. “Apisus said in the letter that they were aging more slowly because of the magic, and Dumbledore was much older than any of them are… er… will be… er… were - whatever! 

“Besides, wouldn’t you love to see Apisus again, even if he is older than you now? We know he was alive when he wrote the letter and that is the final proof.” 

Harry was desperately trying to convince Severus, he bit his lip as if pondering what else to say. Then he tensed and peered hard at the large gold coin that Severus had just put into stasis.

Suddenly he was looking up at Severus again, eyes shining with a sort of fierce joy.

“Look at the dates Domine! Look! In the letter Apisus writes about his family and their children and what they are doing. They are all healthy and well and happy. He says so.” Harry jabbed a finger at the parchment that Severus still held in his hand. “Please, Domine,” he continued. “It proves things even more. Read the letter, look at the coin, compare the dates!

For a moment Severus felt puzzled and then he realised what Harry was talking about. According to the date inscribed on the large gold coin it had been minted a mere nineteen years before the end of the first century. The letter bore a date penned in Apisus’ own handwriting that was eighteen years from the end of the century. Of course Roman dates were difficult to translate. At the time that Apisus was writing the standard method of marking time was _ab urbe conditâ_ \- after the foundation of the city of Rome, which had become unwieldy and confusing, especially after Julius Caesar had reformed the calendar. More often the Romans marked time by the number of years that an Emperor had been ruling. The coin bearing the name Aquae Sulis seem to have been minted to celebrate the accession of Domitian, which was AD 81 by modern reckoning. The letter, on the other hand, bore a notation stating that it had been written in the second year of Domitian’s rule – AD 82. The coins with Vespasian’s image had to be, at the very least, three years older.

Severus was once again struck by how intelligent Harry was, to be able to correctly work out the dates without even looking it up. They had discussed the Flavian Dynasty when they had first read the letter together, but nevertheless Harry had remembered the timeline well and Severus determined to tell him so - when he had thought through all the information that Harry had presented him with.

If Harry was right and if the coin was indeed going to be their _Crux Temporus_ , if they were going to go back in time to the date on the coin and, if the date on the letter was correct, then the missive had not yet been written when he and Harry had returned. Apisus had written it a year later. The note in the box was hurried, the writing scrawled as if it had been written without much thought, in somewhat of a rush. The items in the box had been assembled with care, but the note seemed an afterthought.

Apisus letter on the other hand was long and detailed, must surely have taken a while to write. It seemed to be targeted specifically at Severus, tempting him to return with hints of the home that awaited him, of the pupil that he could help and support. Why else did Apisus mention Modia’s grandson specifically by name? Harry had no idea who Aurelius Ambrosius, also called Merddyn, might conceivably be, hadn’t even mentioned it. No, that part of the letter, at least, was aimed directly at himself. The description had led Harry back to Godric’s Hollow, caused him to recognize it. But the hints about Merddyn? They were for Severus, just in case he was tempted to refuse. 

Then a thought occurred to him, Apisus would have no idea who Merddyn might be any more than Harry did, how could he unless someone had told him? There was only one person who could have helped Apisus include so much information guaranteed to whet Severus’ desire to return. He could almost picture himself talking to Apisus, suggesting what hints and teases to include, perhaps the letter was so right for Severus because he himself helped compose it?

Harry had been watching him closely, whilst he pondered his lover’s words. He must have tracked Severus’ thoughts as they flitted across his face. Because Harry’s worried expression suddenly lightened as he sensed victory and it was as if someone had turned on the sun after a long, dark night.

“See?” Harry crowed. “See, I’m right aren’t I? You can’t deny it!”

Severus gave the cheeky brat a glare but couldn’t argue the point so he remained silent. It was good to see Harry happy again, it made him realise how long it had been since he had last seen Harry like that. He had no doubt that Apisus was still alive, or rather had still been alive and had prepared and buried the box. The magic signature definitely felt like his and the parchment was written in his hand. Severus couldn’t help but recognise it, having seen it often enough when Apisus had been learning to write and, of course, having read it time after time in the letter that he still held tightly. Harry was indeed right, the letter was dated a year later, so that meant that Apisus and Modia, Hermia and Rufus, all of them… all of them were still alive and healthy in the time minted on the coin. 

Now that he was convinced it was possible, Severus wanted to return to ancient times as much, if not more, than Harry. But he knew of one more obstacle, one more reason that might prevent their return and this reason affected Harry most of all. Harry had to be the one to decide and Severus must abide by that decision.

“Harry, there is one more thing you must think about before making a decision; if we go back you will be a nobody again, I never got around to freeing you before we left, I never thought that I would need to as we were coming back. I only have MY citizen papers. You will still have to be my slave – at least until I can make up some documentation or arrange to free you.”

“Do you think that I care about that?” Harry asked urgently. “So what if I am a slave there. I am just commodity here, too; since I defeated Voldemort everyone I meet wants a piece of me, one way or another. They want me to endorse things, pose with them for endless photos, read about my life in minute detail. Once I started to play Quidditch it got worse! And since the World Cup?” Harry shuddered. “You saw the Daily Prophet today?”

Severus nodded. 

“I never wanted this,” Harry continued. “I just did what I had to do as seeker and do my best for the team. Now the public has gotten so aggressive the team has Aurors assigned wherever we are staying. They follow us around, for my supposed protection. I got into real trouble for giving ‘my guardians’ the slip so I could go to Godric’s Hollow. 

“This isn’t living. The only place that I feel safe is here with you, but our relationship is frowned upon because of the age difference and the fact that you used to be my teacher. I am twenty-three years old, for Circes’ sake, but everyone thinks I’m only nineteen. I’m watched constantly – supposedly to keep me safe. I have ‘obligations’ to fulfil, at least according to the coach and my agent! Did you know they got me an agent? They want me to do a full page spread in Witch Weekly!” Harry shuddered again. 

“I am supposed to be free here, but I’m not really. My decisions have to be based on what is best for the team, or for the promotion of Quidditch, or for the whole fucking Wizarding World!”

Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself, to still his agitation. Severus wanted to hold him, tell him that he didn’t have to do those things that they could go somewhere far away and be together. But in truth he knew that they could not; Harry was just too well known. He didn’t think there was anywhere on earth that they could go and be alone, just the two of them (at least not in this ‘time’). Eventually Harry would be recognized and the whole circus would start again.

 

“At least the Romans are honest!” Harry said bitterly. “I knew what was expected of me and what would happen if I broke the ‘rules’. There, I belonged to you and you kept me safe. I know that you want me, Harry, not some imaginary hero. I just want to be normal, have a life where I can just be me and not some icon that everyone wants to have a little bit of. Please, Domine, let’s investigate it at least. I want to go home.”

Harry’s voice broke on the last word.

And Severus knew that he couldn’t deny him, even if he wished to, which he didn’t. He wanted to go back, too. He hadn’t thought much about what it had been like for Harry over the last three years. He had assumed that Harry was enjoying the glamorous life he was leading, seeing interesting places and meeting new people. But now that he looked at his boy, he could see that Harry was dying by degrees. The sparkle in his green eyes, that had been so evident earlier, was already more subdued. Just a little longer and Harry himself might start to disappear. Harry looked worried, anxious, his natural ebullience was slowly being eroded away.

“When I found the book and worked out the clues, I was sure that you would say yes. I thought we could go home!” Harry’s eyes had started to glisten with unshed tears. “I thought that you would want to go back, that we did go back. Oh please, Severus?” Harry begged. 

Severus gasped. Harry had never called him Severus, not once in the three years since their return. He was ‘Domine’ to Harry, he had always been Domine.

Severus didn’t speak, he just reached out and grabbed his young lover.

“Of course we will, of course we’ll go back! Apisus has left us the means and the potion can be ready in a week. I want to go back, too, Harry! I just had to be sure you really wanted it also – and that you understand all that going back will entail.” 

The relief was apparently too much for Harry and he buried his face against Severus’ chest… he was sobbing. Harry, who had only truly cried twice before in all the time that Severus had known him, was crying like a lost child.

So Severus just sat and held him until, after what seemed like hours, all the tears had been shed and Harry slept, curled against him as he had so many times before. As the day drew to a close and dusk invaded the room, Severus sat looking out at the hills opposite their bedroom window and began to make plans.

 

**********

 

In the end it was nearly six weeks before they were ready to leave and Severus couldn’t wait. As soon as Harry had told the coach of the Quidditch team that he was planning to stop playing it was as if the world went mad. 

They were bombarded with owls, begging Harry to reconsider and return on the one hand and then condemning him for abandoning his obligations to the Wizarding public on the other. Howlers also began arriving for Severus almost hourly, showering him with condemnation in an ever increasing fervour for stealing their hero away. Severus tried his best to ignore it all as he went about his preparations for departure. After all, it was the exact reaction he had expected.

Harry, on the other hand, angered by what he considered unwarranted and unfair reactions from both his team and the public in general, sent for his things and refused to make any further public appearances at all. He had led England to victory for the first time in hundreds of years. He had revived the fortunes of the Cannons, who now had a very able reserve seeker whom Harry had trained personally. He had even died for them in his efforts to rid the Wizarding World of Voldemort. If that wasn’t enough, it was just too fucking bad – Harry Potter, for the first time in 23 years was taking his life into his own hands and pleasing no one but himself (and consequently, a very snarky Slytherin Potions Master).

They told very few people where, or rather when, they were going. Only Minerva, Granger and Weasley, and, strangely enough, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were told the entire truth. 

Granger’s eyes had filled with tears as Harry told her and Weasley their decision. “But, Harry,” she had whispered, “we’ll never see you again!”

“It’s what you want though, right?” Ron had said. asked, with a sad but understanding expression. And ever since that conversation, Severus had started calling him by his given name. Ron’s reaction to their news had proven that he was a true friend. “Harry isn’t happy here, Hermione. And he is never going to be. When we were kids I thought that fame would be wonderful, but it’s destroying you isn’t it mate? Hardly a day goes by that there isn’t something about you splashed all over the papers. That’s no sort of life – you can’t even pop over to Diagon Alley for an ice cream without being mobbed. And you love Snape, don’t you mate; that’s frowned upon here, too. It must hurt something fierce hearing him vilified all the time because of you?”

Harry had taken a deep breath and nodded.

“But, Ron, we don’t do that!” Granger had been indignant.

Severus knew that she had tried to be supportive in her own way. Still he always had the feeling that he, Severus, repulsed her and that secretly she longed for Harry to find someone younger and more ‘suited’ to Harry. Of course, she could never openly admit to such feelings, not with her liberal upbringing. But that just made things deeply uncomfortable whenever Severus was around as the poor girl tried to reconcile her feelings with her beliefs.

“No, we don’t,” Ron had agreed. “But we don’t exactly go out of our way to welcome Professor Snape into our home either. When was the last time they came over?”

“We saw Harry just a few weeks ago!” Granger objected.

“Exactly!” the redhead replied. “Harry, not them together, just Harry. When you got back I did a bit of reading,” he continued, transferring his attention to Snape and ignoring the twin looks of astonishment that Harry and Granger shared. “I wanted to know what it was all about… erm… you know… this thing about relationships between boys and older men. I learned it was different there. They had very different beliefs from ours. I don’t say I agree with them all, but it was called pederasty and it was acceptable in those days, encouraged even. As long as there was no abuse involved. Harry isn’t going to be your slave this time, though, is he?” Ron turned to look at Severus then, weighing him up with a gaze that was surprisingly shrewd. 

“He might have to be for a short while,” Severus had told him. “Just until I can sort out some paperwork. We were lucky last time, but on this occasion I want to do things properly. Be assured, however, that I will not abuse him in any way.” Ron had continued to stare at him for a little longer and then nodded once, as if satisfied by Severus’ answer.

He had walked over to Harry then and pulled him into his arms. “I wasn’t always the best friend to you, mate,” he’d said. “But I love you just about more than anyone, except perhaps Hermione. If you think that going back in time will make you happy then it’s fine with me, but I will miss you every day for the rest of my life.”

After that statement Granger had crumbled, too.

Longbottom had been surprisingly supportive. He had told Harry that he supported his choice and that he reckoned Severus had hidden depths.

Luna Lovegood just nodded, smiled at them sagely and said, “Well, of course you are going back, after all, you still have work to do.”

Minerva understood better than anyone it seemed; she hadn’t even questioned them. She had just hugged Severus close and told Harry to look after him for her.

 

**************

 

On the day they left, it seemed as though most of their friends came to see them off, even though it was still quite early in the morning. A light summer mist was decorating the lake and all the world seemed expectant and still. They had already said goodbye to their rooms which, though comfortable, with stunning views, had never been quite the home that their shop in Rome had become. Severus had wandered from room to room, saying goodbye to things that they could not take with them for fear of altering the timeline, whilst Harry took an exultant Flea for her final walk, in this time at least. They had waited until she had eaten her breakfast and curled up for a sleep in her favourite battered chair before transforming her, once again into a smooth yellow pebble which Severus stowed carefully away in Harry’s backpack for the journey to the past. Severus could not even think about leaving Harry’s little dog behind. The boy had lost his beloved Hedwig in tragic circumstances and Severus was determined to do everything in his power to ensure that he did not lose Flea. She had survived the journey once before, there was no reason whatsoever to believe that she would not do so again.

The official story that they had told everyone, except for a select few, was that they were going into retreat in the southwest of England – which, of course, they were. They had merely left out the time travel aspect of it. Hagrid had been sobbing into a large, checked handkerchief which Severus suspected had once been a tablecloth. Ginny Weasley was crying, too, supported by Neville Longbottom. They suited each other remarkably well, Severus thought, perhaps with Harry gone they would have a future together?

Molly Weasley surprised him by hugging him and telling him to take care of himself and Arthur shook his hand vigorously, seemingly unable to think of anything to say. Severus wondered if the distance between them had been as much their fault as the fault of the Weasleys. He suspected they had not made all the effort that they might have done, because all the time they had been here, in their hearts, they had wished to be elsewhere.

The small crowd of well wishers followed them to the station where they caught the train south, each of them carrying a small rucksack which was, nevertheless, crammed with their belongings, including a sizable amount of gold. 

Harry had gifted much of his inheritance to Tonks and her son. She, too, stood on the station platform clutching her little boy, with his shock of bright blue hair, tightly by the hand as they waved goodbye.

Harry waved back eagerly, his equilibrium seemingly restored now that they were finally going home. Turning away from the figures on the platform, Harry smiled lovingly at Severus and Severus’ heart soared as he relaxed at last. Finally the journey they had been planning for many weeks had begun. They were going home at last.

 

*************

 

The journey seemed to take forever, with a long delay at Perth and changes at Edinburgh and Birmingham, but at last they were in Bath. They stayed overnight in a tiny guest house, Harry having to remain hidden under his invisibility cloak because as soon as he had been spotted he had been accosted by a small group of giggling girls and later by a larger group of Quidditch fans. Severus could easily understand why Harry had become so frustrated and could barely restrain himself from hexing them. Luckily growling at them and bestowing his best sneer upon them had been enough to see them off, at least for awhile.

From Bath they Apparated. Harry took Severus as a side-along passenger and they arrived totally accident and pain free.

Godric’s Hollow was quite simply beautiful. Together they looked at the memorial to Harry’s parents and visited the little cottage where Harry had been orphaned and then, hand in hand and uncaring as to who saw them, they slowly made their way up the nearby hill to visit the long barrow.

There was a small copse of trees nearby. The blossoms had all disappeared this late in the summer, but they were undoubtedly wild cherries. It was to this small belt of trees that they retreated and changed into tunics and cloaks.

Severus felt like he could breathe again once he had changed; finally he felt free. Harry was wearing a red tunic this time round, one that Severus had forgotten about. It only covered one shoulder and left a lot of flesh somewhat exposed. Severus sighed. Harry looked totally delectable. This tunic was almost as short as the ones that Harry had worn when he first came to Rome. This time, however, it was deliberate on Harry’s part. It appeared that he didn’t want to hide from anyone now – he wanted the world to see that he belonged to Severus. 

_“Just you wait until later, brat!”_ Severus told him, slipping easily into Latin, not even noticing the transition. _“Trying to arouse me!”_

Harry grinned.

“ _Looks like I have succeeded, my Dominus!”_ he said somewhat smugly.

Severus hoped that it would not be too long before they found somewhere to stay once they arrived in the past, because he desperately wanted to ravish Harry, something which Harry seemed to understand and relish.

He sat on a tree trunk and watched Harry fasten the wand belt that Octavius had made him around his waist and then bend over to lace his sandals. They were brown leather and had long cords which wrapped several times around Harry’s leg, decorating the flesh, and Severus wished he could take them off again, slowly, inch by inch and nibble those delicious toes. Harry’s feet were as irresistible to him now as they had always been.

Finally, Harry stood. They were ready to leave but before they took even one short step there was a rustling in the undergrowth and a young female roe deer stepped into the clearing. For several seconds they watched each other, her large liquid brown eyes examining them closely. At last she seemed to nod as if wishing them well and then she turned away and faded back into the shadows. . Severus heart lightened even more as he turned back to look at Harry.

 

It was colder on the hill. A cool breeze was blowing, causing Harry’s skin to pebble with goose bumps. 

“ _It is not as warm as Rome, hmm, my little slave?”_ Severus teased. 

Harry grinned again, his happiness bubbling to the surface like a geyser. _“You’ll just have to warm me up again, won’t you, Domine?”_

“ _I surely will._ ” Severus said with fervour.

They reached a part of the barrow that still bore faint signs where Harry had dug down for the box and stopped. The village below them seemed to be sleeping its way into the evening. Somewhere in the distance a fox barked, but otherwise the late afternoon was silent.

Harry smiled. _“Well, this is it.”_

_“This is it.”_ Severus repeated. “ _Are you ready for a new beginning, my Harry?”_

_“Oh yes!”_ Harry said enthusiastically, his green eyes alight with excitement. 

He wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him close and the young man wrapped his own slim arm around Severus’ waist. Severus held out the coin and Harry placed his smaller hand over the top. 

If this worked there would be no turning back. On this occasion their rucksacks contained almost nothing from this time at all, just some tunics, some potions, to keep them going until Severus could make more, some gold and, nestled at the bottom of Harry’s rucksack, a certain little yellow dog transformed into a pebble yet again. Harry had brought his precious album, though it was well hidden with its true nature obscured, and one or two other items that they could not bear to leave behind. Their wands were fastened in their pouches, hanging from their belts, handy in case they should need them. They’d wanted nothing else. 

Severus looked down at his lover. “ _Ready, Harry?_ ” he asked. 

Harry nodded, and together they said the words that would take them home.

“ _Tempus Fugit Retrorsum_ ”

Then the world around them began to spin and everything turned black as the spell did its job one last time and took them both back home to the past.

__

Finis

A/N

Before you flame me there will be a sequel! 

Severus and Harry just didn’t want to live in the 21st century and they refused to stay! I have loved writing this story as it encompasses my two favourite things; Snarry and Roman history. I have notes for a series of vignettes set during the four years that Severus and Harry lived in Rome so I will post them as I write them and I promise I’ll write the sequel! However I do have two WIPs to finish first and I will probably do the same as I did with this story and post it when it is complete, so it won’t be up for a while yet.

In case anyone is interested in the historical bit, it is still possible to visit the Roman Baths at Aquae Sulis which is now called Bath. Adelard did exist around about 1100 and he did translate and transcribe a number of documents. Isca Augusta is now called Caerleon and the remains of the Roman fort can still be seen. Caerleon is one of the many places in Britain which is rumoured to be the site where Camelot might have stood, so it seems fitting to have had Merddyn born there.

As for Godric’s Hollow. JKR doesn’t tell us where it is, other than to state that it is in the southwest of England. I have sited it near the ancient main road to London, which is now the A303 which passes close to Stonehenge. There are a number of Longbarrows in this part of the country so I set one near Godric’s Hollow so that Apisus would have a point of reference as the countryside would have changed a lot in 2,000 years. 

According to the HP Lexicon Godric Gryffindor was born around about the tenth century, 1,000 years ago. The name Godric was a Saxon name and was, apparently, rarely used after the Normans arrived in 1066.

In Hollywood movies, Camelot always seems to be set during the time of the Normans, but if Arthur did exist he was possibly a Romano-Celtic chieftain who could have ruled sometime during the 600 years after Romans left when Britain was constantly raided by Saxons and Vikings and written history was quite sketchy for a few hundred years!

Thanks for reading ~ Lucie.


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